SOUTH AFRICA’S XENOPHOBIA IS THE BILL FOR A BROKEN PROMISE

South Africa’s latest xenophobia—they call it Afrophobia now, flare-up appears, at first glance, to be about foreigners.

It is not.

Foreigners are simply the easiest target. They run the spaza shop. They sell on the pavement. They compete in the informal economy. They are visible in communities where unemployment, poverty and frustration have become daily realities.

But the anger is not really about them. It is about a promise made in 1994 that remains largely unfulfilled.

Political freedom arrived. Economic freedom did not.

"When apartheid ended, South Africa faced a historic challenge: how to dismantle centuries of economic exclusion that doomed the black majority to serfdom and give them a genuine chance at climbing the social ladder...

Apartheid had not only denied people the vote. It had denied them land, quality education, capital, networks, decent housing and the ability to accumulate wealth across generations.

The new democratic state therefore needed urgency.

It needed to build schools that worked and boost job creation by expanding infrastructure, support entrepreneurs and ensure that millions who had been deliberately excluded could participate meaningfully in the economy.

Because political freedom without economic progress was always going to create disappointment.

Black Economic Empowerment was part of that response. It was necessary. A country that had excluded black people from ownership and leadership could not simply pretend the past did not exist.

But BEE was never going to solve everything.

A few people entering boardrooms could not compensate for millions of children receiving poor education. A handful of black billionaires could not transform communities where unemployment remained high, electricity unreliable and small businesses struggled to survive.

The problem was not that some black South Africans became wealthy. Every functioning economy creates winners. The problem was that too many people saw no realistic path to becoming one of them.

That is where resentment grows. Inequality becomes dangerous when people believe the ladder has been removed...

And South Africa is not merely unequal. It is almost in a category of its own.

The World Bank has ranked it as the most unequal country in the world, while the World Inequality Database shows that the richest 10 percent take roughly two-thirds of national income, leaving the bottom half with only a tiny share. In Sweden, by contrast, the bottom half takes about a quarter of national income.

That comparison matters.

It shows that South Africa’s problem is not just poverty. It is the architecture of opportunity. In a more normal society, inequality can be softened by the belief that the system is open, schools work, capital is accessible and effort can still move a family from the bottom to the middle. In South Africa, too many people do not see that path.

The legacy of apartheid did not end with apartheid.

It compounded.

It compounded through land ownership. It compounded through education. It compounded through access to capital. It compounded through where people lived, which schools they attended, what networks they could enter and what assets their parents could pass on.

That is why South Africa’s Gini coefficient remains among the highest ever recorded for a major economy. This is not accidental inequality. It is inherited inequality, reinforced over time.

A poor person can accept that someone else has a bigger house or a better car if they believe their own child has a fair chance of achieving the same. But when opportunity appears reserved for those with political connections, wealth begins to look less like success and more like privilege.

This is the uncomfortable reality of post-apartheid South Africa.

The country moved from a system where race determined economic opportunity to one where political access often became a powerful advantage. The rise of a connected black elite was an important correction to apartheid exclusion, but it also created a new frustration among ordinary citizens who feel they were left behind....

Many fought for liberation together. Yet decades later, some live in first-world luxury while others continue to  grovel under sub-human conditions.

That gap is politically explosive.

The statistics explain the anger.

South Africa’s unemployment rate remains among the highest in the world, with young people carrying the heaviest burden. Millions of young South Africans have grown up after apartheid, hearing that freedom had arrived, only to discover that economic opportunity remains painfully limited.

They see politicians and businesspeople with access and influence moving ahead while they struggle to find work.

Then someone tells them the problem is the foreigner.

And the match is lit.

"This is why xenophobia keeps returning. It is not because migrants suddenly become the cause of South Africa’s problems. It is because they become a convenient explanation for problems that are much deeper...

The foreign shopkeeper becomes a symbol of economic frustration.

The reality is more complicated. Migrants are a small share of South Africa’s population, and there is little evidence that they are responsible for unemployment, crime or failing public services. Many migrants are simply doing what South Africa has struggled to encourage enough of its own citizens to do: start small businesses, take risks and compete in difficult conditions.

The tragedy is that their success often becomes a source of anger rather than a lesson.

A society with millions of unemployed young people cannot survive on blame. It needs opportunity.

When leaders fail to provide answers, scapegoats become attractive.

This is where politics enters.

The African National Congress (ANC), once the unquestioned symbol of liberation, has lost much of its dominance. Its loss of a parliamentary majority in the 2024 election reflected growing public frustration with unemployment, corruption and poor service delivery.

A weakened liberation movement faces a difficult temptation: to explain failure or to distract from it.

"foreigner becomes useful because he shifts attention away from the broken municipality, the failed school, the corrupt tender and the political insider who became wealthy without creating broad prosperity...

But South Africa cannot build a future by attacking people who are also trying to survive.

The real challenge remains the same one that existed in 1994: turning political freedom into economic mobility.

And like every unpaid bill, the longer it is ignored, the more painful the final payment becomes.

UGANDA'S HARD RESET: THE POLITICS WE WANTED, BUT MAY NOT LIKE

Recent events in Uganda should give every Ugandan pause for thought.

Veteran opposition leader Dr. Kizza Besigye has now spent more than a year in custody on treason charges. The government has indefinitely suspended more than a dozen NGOs accused of pursuing a regime-change agenda. Senior politicians including Erias Lukwago, Muwanga Kivumbi and Miria Matembe have been arrested and later arraigned on charges ranging from computer misuse to misprision of treason. Meanwhile, opposition leader Robert Kyagulanyi, popularly known as Bobi Wine, remains in self-imposed exile.

Taken individually, each case has its own legal and political context. Taken together, however, they suggest Uganda is entering a different political era.

Many analysts see these developments as part of General Muhoozi Kainerugaba's efforts to consolidate authority ahead of an eventual succession from President Yoweri Museveni. Whether or not that proves correct, the direction of travel is becoming difficult to ignore. Uganda appears to be moving away from the relatively laissez-faire politics that has characterised much of the last three decades towards a far more disciplined—and less permissive—political order.

Museveni's Contradiction

Ironically, that shift may be the inevitable consequence of President Museveni's greatest political achievement.

For nearly four decades, Museveni has successfully managed a chaotic political elite. Rather than eliminate competing centres of power, he balanced them. Patronage, accommodation and political flexibility became instruments of survival.

It worked.

Uganda has enjoyed political continuity unmatched in its post-independence history. The economy has expanded several-fold. Exports have grown from less than US$1 billion in the mid-1990s to over US$13 billion today. Electricity generation, roads, telecommunications and financial inclusion have all improved dramatically.

But flexibility came at a cost.

A system held together by personalities rather than institutions inevitably breeds patronage. Patronage breeds impunity. Impunity breeds corruption.

Many of Uganda's frustrations—from delayed infrastructure and procurement scandals to ballooning domestic arrears—reflect a political order where maintaining coalitions often mattered more than enforcing discipline.

Museveni mastered managing disorder. His successor may conclude that governing Uganda now requires creating order.

The Political Elite's Biggest Mistake

It would be a mistake to see the current moment simply as an assault on the opposition.

The bigger story is that Uganda's entire political elite has reached the limits of its usefulness.

Across both government and opposition, politics has increasingly become personality-driven rather than programme-driven. Politicians have become experts at attracting headlines but remarkably poor at building durable institutions capable of mobilising citizens around coherent agendas.

The opposition, in particular, has fallen victim to a dangerous illusion.

It has mistaken popularity for power.

Large crowds, social media engagement and favourable public sentiment create the impression of overwhelming support. But political power is built much like wealth—it compounds slowly through years of disciplined investment.

Successful political movements recruit village by village. They organise polling agents. They raise money continuously. They train leaders, build local structures and remain active between elections. Above all, they require enormous sacrifice—of time, comfort, careers and resources.

Too much of Uganda's political class has assumed that public frustration would somehow translate into political change without making those long-term investments.

The consequence has been predictable.

Instead of building organisations capable of compelling government to respond to national priorities—or ultimately convincing it to step aside—they have relied on momentum, emotion and hope. Hope is not a political strategy any more than wishing is an investment strategy.

Meanwhile, those within the ruling establishment have devoted increasing energy to succession politics and patronage instead of confronting Uganda's structural challenges.

The conversation should be about improving schools, raising agricultural productivity, eliminating domestic arrears, industrialising exports and preparing Uganda for a post-oil economy. Instead, politics has become consumed by personalities, arrests and intrigue.

A fragmented political elite that cannot marshal disciplined constituencies around ideas is far easier to control than one rooted in strong institutions.

We Want Rwanda's Results Without Rwanda's Discipline

Ugandans frequently admire Rwanda's clean cities, efficient public institutions and ability to implement policy.

What we rarely acknowledge is that discipline did not emerge accidentally.

Whether one agrees with Rwanda's methods or not, its achievements rest upon an uncompromising insistence that rules matter.

Yet many Ugandans want the outcomes without paying the price.

We condemn corruption but resist enforcement. We demand efficient institutions while opposing tighter regulation. We admire Singapore and Rwanda but forget that order always requires discipline.

There are no free lunches in economics.

There are none in governance either.

The Foreign Guardrails Are Fading

There is another reason this moment feels different.

For years Uganda's political freedoms existed partly because foreign donors possessed considerable leverage. Aid dependence gave Western governments influence whenever governance concerns arose.

That leverage is weakening.

Domestic revenues have grown substantially. Oil revenues are approaching. Alternative geopolitical partners have reduced Kampala's dependence on traditional donors.

The uncomfortable truth is that some of the freedoms we assumed were permanently guaranteed rested less on strong domestic institutions than on external pressure. As those pressures diminish, governments inevitably become more willing to define political boundaries on their own terms.

The Hard Reset

Uganda is approaching a hard reset.

Many citizens have long demanded a more effective state—one that implements projects on time, punishes corruption and delivers better services. Achieving those goals will almost certainly require a more disciplined political system than the one Museveni spent four decades managing.

The risk is that discipline imposed from above can easily become coercion if it is not restrained by strong institutions and the rule of law.

The opportunity is that Uganda finally addresses the disorder that has allowed corruption, inefficiency and weak accountability to flourish.

Whether this transition ultimately strengthens or weakens the country will depend not simply on who holds power, but on whether order is used to build institutions instead of merely consolidating authority.

One thing, however, seems increasingly clear.

The Uganda of the next decade is unlikely to resemble the Uganda of the last four.

A hard reset is coming.

Many of us have spent years demanding a more disciplined state. We may soon discover that history has answered that demand.

The only question is whether we will like the answer.

 

UGANDA NEEDS TO STOP PRETENDING ITS DEVELOPING

When Kenyan President William Ruto observed recently that Kenya’s paved road network exceeds the combined total of its regional neighbours. That stung.

Not because Uganda has no roads. We do.

But because the remark exposed an uncomfortable truth. For all the money we have poured into infrastructure over the last two decades, we are still playing catch-up.

"Uganda’s paved road network, at just over 6,100km, is not small because we lack ambition. It is small because too many good plans are suffocated by delayed implementation, procurement games, bureaucratic inertia and land acquisition disputes. In the public eye, all euphemisms for corruption...

In infrastructure, lost time is lost wealth.

Which is why the recent arraignment of Works ministry officials, as part of the probe into the delayed completion of the Busega–Mpigi Expressway, should concern us beyond whether the accused are guilty or innocent.

That is for the courts.

The larger issue is economic.

How many development dreams have we postponed, inflated or quietly killed because we cannot implement projects on time and on budget?

The Busega–Mpigi Expressway was not a bad idea. In fact, it is exactly the kind of project Uganda needs. It was conceived as a strategic road link out of Kampala towards Masaka, western Uganda, Rwanda, DR Congo and Tanzania. It was meant to decongest the Kampala–Masaka corridor, one of the most important trade and passenger routes in the country.

Depending on the section being discussed, the project has been described as a 23.7km to 27.3km four-lane expressway from Busega to Mpigi, with interchanges, bridges, drainage works, service lanes, tolling facilities and links into the wider road network.

Construction started in 2020. The promise was simple enough: cut travel time between Busega and Mpigi from as much as two hours to under 45 minutes.

That is not a small saving.

Multiply that by thousands of vehicles, traders, workers, buses, trucks and farm produce movements over a year and you begin to see why infrastructure matters.

"This is a point Shillings & Cents has made before. The heavy spending on roads, rail and energy is not the problem. In fact, it is the right thing to do. No country has transformed itself by balancing neat little budgets while its people sit in traffic, its farmers cannot reach markets, and its factories cannot get reliable power.

Infrastructure is not consumption. It is economic oxygen....

Roads reduce the cost of moving goods. Rail lowers freight costs. Power allows industry to run. Urban infrastructure saves working people from spending their lives in traffic jams. A tarmac road is not just a strip of bitumen. It is a market access tool.

The farmer in Masaka who gets pineapples to Kampala before they rot, the exporter who can predict delivery times, the manufacturer who can plan logistics, the bus operator who can do more trips in a day — these are the real beneficiaries of infrastructure.

So let us be clear. Uganda is right to bet big on infrastructure.

The problem is that big bets require big discipline.

The Busega–Mpigi Expressway has now become a case study in how good intentions are subverted. The cost has reportedly risen from the original hundreds of billions of shillings to more than a trillion shillings, while completion dates have kept shifting.

A project that began in 2020 and should by now be unlocking one of Uganda’s busiest corridors has instead become another reminder that we are very good at launching projects and much less good at finishing them.

This is not merely an administrative inconvenience.

It is an economic loss.

As Africans, we often behave as if time is elastic. A year lost here. Another year lost there. A project pushed from 2023 to 2026, then to 2027, maybe even beyond. We shrug and move on.

But time works whether we value it or not.

Interest accumulates. Costs rise. Contractors submit variation claims. Land values change. Equipment sits idle. Investors move on. Children grow older.

The lost savings are not theoretical. They are the money a trader never saves on transport. They are the expansion an entrepreneur postpones. They are the taxes government never collects because growth that should have happened did not happen.

And because taxes are not collected, one child — or thousands of children — does not get the classroom, textbook, desk or teacher that should have been provided as their right as Ugandans.

This is where the real scandal lies.

"A delayed road is not just a delayed road. It is delayed growth. Delayed taxes. Delayed services. Delayed dignity...

Infrastructure generates its return only when it is completed and put to work. A road earns its keep when vehicles move faster on it. A dam earns its keep when power reaches homes and factories. A railway earns its keep when cargo shifts from expensive road haulage to cheaper rail.

Until then, the country is carrying debt, paying interest and waiting for benefits that remain theoretical. For example we started repaying the Karuma dam debt long before it had produced a watt of electricity.

This is why project delays are so dangerous. They attack the economics of infrastructure from both sides. First, they raise the cost. Second, they postpone the benefit.

If a road is supposed to save transporters money for 20 years but is delivered seven years late, the country has lost seven years of savings. If the cost doubles along the way, the return on investment falls further. If corruption, poor supervision or needless redesigns are involved, then the public is robbed twice — once through inflated costs and again through delayed development.

The Busega–Mpigi case also points to a deeper institutional weakness.

We need fewer launch ceremonies and more project dashboards.

There must be penalties for contractors, consultants and officials who cause avoidable delays. Independent technical audits should precede major scope changes. Land acquisition should be substantially resolved before works begin.

Uganda cannot afford to abandon infrastructure spending. That would be foolish.

We are still far behind what our ambitions require. But infrastructure without execution discipline is a very expensive way of pretending to develop.

FOOTBALL, FINANCE AND THE MYTH OF THE LUCKY BREAK

The World Cup brings an excitement to me, undeemed since my first world cup in 1982. Unlike now when we are looking to put the GOAT (Greatest of all time) debate to rest, the star of that world cup for me was the football -- the Tango Espana.

For months or was it years after, that ball, whose design was a break from the alternating black and white pentagons of a previous Adidas balls, was enough to ensure everybody was your best friend if you owned one.

True that was the World Cup that served as Paolo Rossi’s redemption, announced Diego Maradona – he was red carded in his last match against Brazil when he planted his studs in Brazilian Batista’s groin and Cameroon’s unbeaten run at their debut. But the Tango was it for me.

As I have grown older I have added another layer to my appreciation for the biggest sporting event in the world – the business of football.

Every four years the World Cup reminds us that football is not just 22 men chasing a ball. It is organisation, money, logistics, culture, psychology and national ambition compressed into 90 minutes.

The 2026 edition makes the point even louder. For the first time, the tournament is being hosted by three countries — the United States, Mexico and Canada — with 48 teams playing 104 matches across 16 cities. FIFA expects the tournament cycle to generate about US$11 billion (approximately Shs40 trillion) in revenue, making it the richest World Cup in history. Broadcasting rights alone will generate more than US$4 billion, while ticketing, hospitality and sponsorships are expected to contribute several billion more.

That is not merely a football tournament. It is a global business enterprise.

To host a World Cup, you need airports, roads, hotels, stadiums, security, television infrastructure, immigration systems, medical support, volunteers and the capacity to move hundreds of thousands of people across cities without the whole thing collapsing. Hosting a World Cup is a feat.

Qualifying for one is also a feat.

There are no flukes.

A country may get one lucky goal. It may benefit from one refereeing decision. It may have one golden generation. But to arrive at the World Cup requires years of youth development, coaching, administration, player welfare, medical support, competitive exposure and the ability to manage pressure over a long qualifying campaign.

That is why some of the most interesting teams to watch this year are not necessarily the traditional giants. Japan, Norway and Morocco may not all win the tournament, but they demonstrate the point that football success is built long before the first whistle.

Japan is perhaps the clearest example. Three decades ago, Japanese football was still finding its place in the global game. Then came the J-League in 1993, professionalisation, academies, coaching structures and a deliberate national football philosophy. Today, Japan is no longer treated as a tourist at the World Cup. Its players are scattered across Europe’s top leagues. Its teams are technically brave, tactically disciplined and psychologically unfazed by the big names. That is not luck. That is a 30-year plan paying dividends.

Norway tells a slightly different story. For years, it produced talented players but lacked the depth and system to consistently trouble the biggest nations. Over the last decade, however, Norwegian players have broken into world-class leagues in numbers and with impact. Erling Haaland and Martin Ødegaard are the obvious poster boys, but the real story is not just two stars. It is a system that has improved talent identification, coaching and pathways from domestic football into Europe’s elite game.

Morocco may be the most fascinating of the three. Its 2022 semi-final run was treated by many as a miracle. It was not. It was the result of infrastructure, federation strategy, diaspora scouting and national ambition. The Mohammed VI Football Academy and Morocco’s deliberate courting of players of Moroccan descent abroad have given the Atlas Lions a depth that many African countries envy.

This year Morocco has pushed that idea even further. It has reportedly become the first national team to field a side whose players were all born outside the country they represent. Some may frown at that. But diaspora talent is still national capital.

This is the lesson for Uganda.

We want qualification without the boring work of pitches, academies, nutrition, school competitions, transparent federation finances, local league marketing, coaching certification and player development pathways. We want the final whistle without the 20-year pipeline.

The World Cup punishes that thinking.

More importantly, it exposes the difference between administrators who are custodians and those who are consumers. The Japanese football administrators who professionalised the J-League in the early 1990s knew they would probably never enjoy the full fruits of their work. The architects of Morocco’s football renaissance knew the biggest rewards would come years after they had left office. They planted trees whose shade would be enjoyed by future generations.

That is the mentality Uganda’s football administrators have too often lacked.

As long as football leadership is viewed primarily as an opportunity to line pockets rather than build institutions, Ugandan football will remain trapped in mediocrity. A football nation is not built in a four-year cycle. It is built over decades. It requires leaders willing to invest in systems whose rewards they may never personally enjoy.

Uganda’s World Cup dream will not be born in one qualification campaign, one foreign coach or one talented generation. It will be born in schools, academies, district leagues, better coaching, proper pitches, credible administration and a sports economy that rewards excellence.

The uncomfortable truth is that we do not lack talent. We lack systems. Talent occasionally wins matches. Systems consistently qualify for World Cups.

There are no flukes. Not in football. Not in development. And certainly not at the World Cup. The scoreboard eventually catches up with the quality of the system behind it.

UGANDA BUDGET 2026/27: MATIA KASAIJA'S REPORT CARD

Matia Kasaija did not read last week’s budget for the first time in a decade. Arguably Uganda’s most colourful finance minister in his presentation, seen by his permanent place on social media, the achievements of his tenure may be lost in the humour.

When in thiscolumn I wrote about labour productivity in 2011, Uganda's challenge seemed straightforward.

We were working hard but producing too little.

The argument then was that Uganda's poverty was not primarily a result of laziness. Rather, our workers lacked the capital, technology, skills and organisational support needed to turn effort into output. A farmer with a hand hoe could work from sunrise to sunset and still produce less than a mechanised farmer elsewhere. Productivity, not effort, was the missing ingredient.

Fifteen years later, and ten years after Matia Kasaija became Minister of Finance, we have enough distance to ask a simple question:

Did Uganda solve the productivity problem?

The answer is both yes and no.

The "yes" is impressive.

When Kasaija took office in 2016, Uganda's economy was worth roughly $27 billion. Today it is approaching $70 billion. Domestic revenues have risen from about Shs11 trillion to more than Shs45 trillion projected in the latest budget. Exports have grown dramatically, from around $4 billion annually to well over $13 billion. Electricity generation has expanded. Roads have improved. Financial inclusion has deepened. Mobile money has transformed commerce. The tax-to-GDP ratio is projected to rise to 15.9 percent.

By almost any macroeconomic measure, Uganda is a bigger, more sophisticated economy than the one Kasaija inherited.

More importantly, the latest budget demonstrates a clear understanding that growth alone is not enough.

The emphasis on commercial agriculture, tourism, minerals, science and technology reflects an appreciation that the next phase of development is about raising productivity within sectors where Uganda enjoys competitive advantages.

In many ways, the latest budget reads like a practical application of the argument this column made in 2011.

Productivity creates wealth. Wealth creates revenues.Revenues create fiscal independence.

The projected 28 percent jump in domestic revenues is therefore more than a tax story. It is evidence that larger sections of the economy are becoming monetised and productive.

That is the good news.

The less flattering part of Kasaija's report card is that Uganda has not fully translated economic growth into economic transformation.

The most obvious evidence is that the same productivity questions raised in 2011 remain relevant in 2026.

Nearly three quarters of Ugandans still derive their livelihoods directly or indirectly from agriculture. Yet most remain smallholder farmers operating on tiny plots with limited mechanisation, weak market access and low productivity.

The economy has grown.

The average farmer has not transformed at the same pace.

This is why government now talks endlessly about agro-industrialisation, value addition and commercialisation. These are not new ideas. They are admissions that the productivity challenge remains unfinished.

Even more revealing is what the latest budget does not say.

The loudest silence remains domestic arrears.

A government genuinely focused on productivity would view unpaid suppliers as an economic emergency...

When a contractor waits years for payment, capital is trapped. Businesses borrow expensively to survive. Banks inherit bad loans. Investment slows. Jobs disappear.

Productivity is not only about producing more.

It is also about ensuring resources circulate efficiently through the economy.

In that regard, domestic arrears represent a major productivity failure.

The contradiction is striking.

Government wants farmers to produce more.

It wants manufacturers to expand.

It wants SMEs to create jobs.

Yet it simultaneously withholds liquidity from businesses that have already delivered goods and services.

That undermines the very productivity gains government seeks to achieve.

The second unresolved challenge is corruption.

Again, viewed through the productivity lens, corruption is not primarily a moral problem.

It is an economic problem.

Resources that should finance investment are diverted into consumption. Talent is redirected from productive activity into rent-seeking. Capital is allocated based on connections rather than efficiency.

The result is lower national productivity.

One of the most encouraging aspects of the latest budget is its recognition that revenue growth cannot indefinitely come from squeezing the same taxpayers. The PAYE threshold adjustment, though modest, signals an appreciation that economic growth ultimately depends on households and businesses retaining enough resources to remain productive.

The Treasury will forgo about Shs96 billion in revenue.

That is a small price to pay for acknowledging economic reality.

If there is one lesson from Kasaija's decade, it is that infrastructure was the easy part.

Roads can be built. Dams can be commissioned. Power lines can be erected.

Transforming behaviour is much harder.

The next stage requires changing how farmers farm, how businesses compete, how government spends and how institutions function.

That is a more complicated challenge than pouring concrete.

So how should history judge Matia Kasaija?

As the minister who successfully managed Uganda's transition from a low-income economy dependent on aid towards a more self-financing and increasingly diversified economy...

But also as the minister whose tenure ended with the country's biggest challenge largely unchanged.

The productivity problem identified in 2011 has evolved but not disappeared.

Uganda has become richer. Government has become bigger. Revenue collections have become stronger. Exports have become more diversified.

Yet the central question remains remarkably familiar:

How do we help millions of Ugandans produce more value from the same effort?

The latest budget suggests government finally understands that this is the question that matters....

Whether it can answer it will determine not only the legacy of Kasaija's successors, but whether Uganda finally makes the leap from growth to transformation.

That, more than any revenue target or expenditure figure, is the real test of the next decade.

THE UGANDA BUDGET'S LOUDEST SILENCE

The headline numbers in Uganda's 2026/27 budget are impressive.

The economy is projected to grow by 10.2 percent as oil production comes on stream. Domestic revenues are expected to rise by 28 percent from Shs35.7 trillion to Shs45.6 trillion, lifting the tax-to-GDP ratio to 15.9 percent. Exports continue to grow, inflation remains under control and government is talking confidently about accelerating the journey towards a $500 billion economy.

On the surface, there is much to celebrate.

Yet buried deep in the budget documents is a silence so loud it threatens to drown out all the optimism.

Domestic arrears.

The budget allocates Shs317 billion towards domestic arrears in the coming financial year, maybe we should be grateful that it is higher than last year’s sh200b. What it does not tell Ugandans is perhaps even more important: how much government actually owes.

That omission matters.

Any businessman seeking a loan would be expected to disclose his liabilities before discussing his repayment plan. Yet government has told taxpayers how much it intends to pay without disclosing the size of the outstanding bill.

The latest figure publicly cited by Parliament's Finance Committee, drawing on findings of the Auditor General, placed domestic arrears at more than Shs13.8 trillion.

If that figure remains broadly accurate, the Shs317 billion allocation would clear barely 2.3 percent of the stock.

Put differently, government is allocating forty-four times more money to domestic debt refinancing than it is to paying businesses and individuals who have already delivered goods and services to the state.

The contrast is startling.

Domestic debt refinancing will consume Shs13.97 trillion.

Interest payments will absorb another Shs14.11 trillion.

Together, debt-related obligations exceed Shs32 trillion.

Domestic arrears receive Shs317 billion.

From a financial perspective, one understands the logic. Government cannot afford to default on its debt obligations.

From an economic perspective, however, the consequences are profound.

For many businesses, government is their biggest customer.

Contractors build roads. Suppliers deliver medicines, stationery and equipment. Consultants provide services. Landlords rent premises.

Then the waiting begins. Months become years. Loans become non-performing. Interest accumulates. Cash flows collapse. Some businesses survive. Many do not.

In effect, domestic arrears amount to an invisible tax on the private sector. Government collects taxes on time but often pays its bills late.

The irony is that this directly undermines many of the objectives highlighted elsewhere in the budget.

Government is spending trillions through the Parish Development Model, Emyooga, the Agricultural Credit Facility, the Small Business Fund and Uganda Development Bank to support enterprise development.

Yet many businesses are being starved of liquidity simply because government has not paid for goods and services already received.

A supplier owed Shs1 billion by government does not need another government loan.

He needs his money.

Which brings us to corruption.

The budget deserves credit for placing anti-corruption efforts at the centre of its implementation reforms. Procurement reforms, digitisation, stronger audits, accountability charters for accounting officers and tighter oversight are all welcome measures.

The recent willingness by the state to confront high-level corruption allegations is also encouraging.

Uganda has reached a point where corruption is no longer merely a moral issue.

It is an economic threat.

As argued in this column before, corruption's greatest danger is not the money stolen.

Its greatest danger is the perception of unfairness it creates.

History shows that people can endure hardship for long periods. What they struggle to accept is a system that appears rigged.

The French Revolution was as much about inequality and privilege as it was about economics. The Arab Spring similarly reflected growing frustration with systems perceived as benefiting a small elite at the expense of everyone else.

The warning remains relevant.

When corruption becomes widespread, it begins to warp society's moral compass.

The discussion has ceased to be whether public resources were stolen. The discussion has become whether too much was stolen.

That is a dangerous place for any country to find itself.

Yet corruption does not exist in isolation.

Domestic arrears are one of the conditions that allow it to thrive.

Whenever payment depends on navigating a maze of approvals and signatures, opportunities emerge for influence peddlers, middlemen and rent-seekers.

A contractor who has waited two years for payment becomes vulnerable to anyone promising to "help" move a file. Domestic arrears are corruption's quieter cousin.

They create incentives for exactly the kind of behaviour government says it wants to eliminate.

That is why a serious anti-corruption agenda should include more than arrests, investigations and procurement reforms.

It should also include radical transparency around domestic arrears.

Government should publish the full stock of verified arrears.

It should explain how they accumulated.

And it should present a credible timetable for eliminating them.

Uganda's achievements over the last four decades are undeniable.

The challenge today is no longer simply growing the economy. The challenge is improving the quality of growth.

That means ensuring fairness. It means honouring obligations. It means reducing opportunities for corruption before they arise.

And it means recognising that confidence in government is built not only by collecting taxes and making promises, but also by paying bills.

The 2026/27 budget makes a strong statement about fighting corruption.

Its silence on domestic arrears is deafening.

And until that silence is addressed, the fight against corruption will remain only half complete.

A TAX CUT, A REVENUE BOOM AND UGANDA'S MARCH TOWARDS SELF-RELIANCE

There was a line in this year’s Budget Speech that deserved far more attention than the usual debate about roads, oil, industrial parks and public spending.

Domestic revenue is projected to jump from Shs35.7 trillion this financial year to Shs45.6 trillion in FY2026/27, an increase of nearly 28 percent. Even more importantly, Uganda’s tax-to-GDP ratio will rise to 15.9 percent.

At first glance, it sounds like just another budget statistic.

It is not.

It may well be one of the most significant economic milestones in Uganda’s recent history.

For decades, Uganda has been building the foundations of economic growth. Since the late 1980s, the economy has expanded more than tenfold. Tax revenues have grown more than sixtyfold. Exports have diversified from coffee and a handful of commodities into gold, manufactured products, fish, cocoa and services. The country has liberalised its economy, tamed inflation and built critical infrastructure.

Yet despite all this progress, Uganda has often struggled with one persistent challenge: raising enough domestic resources to finance its ambitions.

The consequence has been dependence on borrowing and, historically, donor support.

That is why Finance Minister Henry Musasizi’s revelation that domestic revenues funded 80.9 percent of the discretionary budget this year is so important. Uganda is steadily moving towards financing its development from its own resources.

"The minister correctly described domestic revenue mobilisation not merely as a fiscal objective but as a sovereignty objective...

He is right.

A country that pays its own bills enjoys greater policy independence than one dependent on lenders and donors.

The generation that lived through the Structural Adjustment Programmes remembers that economic assistance often came with conditions. Many of those reforms proved beneficial, but the lesson remains the same: when someone else finances your priorities, they inevitably influence them.

When you finance your own development, you retain the freedom to chart your own course.

That is why the projected 28 percent jump in domestic revenue matters.

Yet perhaps the most politically significant measure in the entire budget was not the revenue target.

It was the decision to increase the Pay As You Earn (PAYE) threshold for the first time in more than three decades...

For years, Ugandan workers have quietly borne the burden of what economists call fiscal drag. Salaries increased, prices increased and inflation steadily eroded purchasing power, but the tax-free income threshold remained frozen in time.

Workers found themselves paying more tax even when their real incomes had barely improved.

The government has finally acknowledged that reality.

The increase in the PAYE threshold is long overdue.

It means workers will retain more of what they earn. It provides additional spending power for households grappling with school fees, rent, healthcare costs and transport expenses.

In practical terms, the change amounts to a salary increase.

A worker who was previously paying tax on the first Shs500,000 of monthly income will now retain an additional Shs30,000 every month because that portion of income is no longer taxed. Effectively, government has delivered a Shs30,000 monthly pay rise to many formally employed Ugandans without requiring employers to increase wages.

Over a year, that translates into Shs360,000.

The Treasury estimates that the measure will cost about Shs96 billion in foregone revenue. But that is a small price to pay for a reform that was overdue by more than three decades. In truth, the adjustment could—and arguably should—have been larger. Inflation has steadily eroded the value of the original threshold over the years. Had the tax-free band been adjusted periodically to reflect changes in the cost of living, today's threshold would likely be significantly higher.

Yet the symbolism matters. Government is effectively sharing some of the gains from stronger revenue performance with taxpayers. At a time when domestic revenues are projected to grow by nearly Shs10 trillion, foregoing Shs96 billion to provide relief to workers represents less than one percent of the additional revenue being raised. It is a modest concession, but a welcome one.

More importantly, it signals a welcome shift in thinking.

"The purpose of taxation is not to maximise taxes. The purpose is to maximise economic activity...

A growing economy ultimately generates more revenue than an overtaxed one.

That is one reason this budget deserves credit for focusing more on expanding the tax base than imposing new taxes.

The distinction is critical.

For too long, Uganda’s tax debate has focused on how much more government can collect from the same formal-sector taxpayers.

Yet the formal economy remains relatively small.

Millions of Ugandans remain outside the tax net, not because they are evading taxes, but because their economic activity remains informal, subsistence-based or too small to tax effectively.

The answer is not squeezing existing taxpayers harder.

The answer is monetisation.

That is precisely why the budget theme remains focused on commercial agriculture, industrialisation, expanding services, digital transformation and market access.

The logic is straightforward.

A subsistence farmer generates little taxable activity because little income enters the formal economy.

A commercial farmer purchasing inputs, accessing finance, processing produce and selling into organised markets creates taxable economic activity throughout the value chain.

The same applies to manufacturing, tourism, ICT, logistics and financial services.

This is where the budget’s emphasis on the ATMS sectors—agro-industrialisation, tourism, minerals and science, technology and innovation—becomes important. These are not merely spending priorities. They are future tax bases. They are the engines that will generate the jobs, incomes and enterprise growth necessary to sustain higher revenues without imposing higher tax rates.

The challenge now is to maintain momentum.

A tax-to-GDP ratio of 15.9 percent represents significant progress, but it remains below the levels achieved by many countries that successfully transitioned from low-income to middle-income status. Most sustain tax ratios above 20 percent.

Uganda still has ground to cover.

Fortunately, technology is making that journey easier.

The rapid growth of digital payments, e-invoicing, mobile money and integrated government databases offers opportunities to broaden compliance while reducing the cost of collection. The ideal tax system is one where paying taxes becomes seamless rather than adversarial.

There is another reason why stronger domestic revenue mobilisation matters today.

Uganda stands on the threshold of commercial oil production.

Many resource-rich countries have made the mistake of becoming dependent on oil revenues while neglecting their domestic tax systems.

The wiser approach is the one this budget appears to embrace: build a strong domestic revenue base first and treat oil revenues as an accelerator rather than a substitute.

Oil wells eventually run dry.

A productive economy driven by farmers, entrepreneurs, manufacturers, innovators and exporters can sustain prosperity indefinitely.

Ultimately, the most important story in this budget is not the size of expenditure, the roads being built or even the coming oil revenues.

It is a subtle but profound shift in philosophy.

For much of the last four decades, Uganda’s economic story was about stabilisation, liberalisation and growth.

The next chapter is about transformation.

Transformation requires resources.

Resources require production.

Production requires people participating fully in the money economy.

That is why the jump in domestic revenues and the increase in the PAYE threshold are two sides of the same coin.

One reflects a government becoming financially stronger.

The other reflects citizens being given a little more room to breathe.

A successful economy requires both.

As the new cabinet settles into office and implementation of the NRM manifesto begins, the real work starts now. As the budget itself notes, Uganda’s challenge is no longer merely growing the economy. The challenge is ensuring that growth translates into jobs, enterprise development, rising household incomes and prosperity for ordinary Ugandans.

If Uganda can continue expanding its revenue base while simultaneously improving the lives of its citizens, this year’s budget may be remembered not for how much government spent, but for how much closer the country came to paying for its own future.