Tomorrow, President Yoweri Museveni takes his seventh oath of office.
Politics
aside, the last forty years represent the longest period of sustained economic
growth in our country's recorded history. And if you ask observers to name the
two biggest achievements of the NRM era, the answers converge quickly: the
restoration of security, and the revitalisation of the economy. What is less
often appreciated is how deeply the two fed off each other.
In 1986, Uganda was not merely poor. It was dangerous. Investors do not build factories in war zones. Farmers do not plant crops they cannot be sure of harvesting. Security was not just a political achievement — it was the precondition for everything that followed. And as stability returned, the economy began to breathe. And as the economy grew, it gave the state resources to consolidate security further. Growth and stability became mutually reinforcing — a virtuous cycle now so established that we have forgotten it was ever built.
In 1986, the
economy was worth roughly $3.5–4 billion. Today it stands at over $50 billion.
Exports have grown from under $500 million to nearly $14 billion. VAT alone now
contributes Shs8–10 trillion annually — more than the entire tax take of 2006.
That is not a footnote. That is a transformation.
But
transformations have authors. When VAT was introduced, Kampala City Traders Association
(KACITA) shut down shops in protest across Kampala for a week. The reform held
anyway.
When Nile
Breweries was privatised — after fierce, protracted debates the President
presided over personally it was producing 2,000 crates a month. Today that
output disappears over a long weekend on Bandali Rise.
When
agricultural liberalisation came, farmers began earning 70–80 percent of world
prices instead of the fraction they had received under state monopolies.
Behind all of it the government forced discipline at a time when indiscipline would have been far easier, and far more popular. And we have begun, rather dangerously, to take what was built for granted.
But
here is the part the numbers do not tell you.
The gains
have not been shared equally. Uganda remains one of the more unequal economies
in East Africa, and the gap between those who have benefited from four decades
of growth and those still waiting is wide and, in some places, widening.
The answer
starts in agriculture, where the majority of Ugandans still earn their living.
Better incentives for farmers, investment in rural infrastructure, access to
inputs and markets — these are not new ideas. They are ideas that have not been
implemented with the seriousness they deserve. An economy growing at 6 percent
while most farmers operate at subsistence level is an economy running on one
engine.
The business
environment matters too. Corruption — at the counter, in the procurement
office, at the border remains a tax on ambition. Every shilling lost to a bribe
is a shilling that does not become a job or an export. Fighting corruption is
not a moral exercise. It is an economic one.
And
then there is oil.
Uganda is
edging toward first oil, and the temptation will be to treat the revenues as a
solution — a cushion against fiscal pressures, a substitute for the harder work
of broadening the tax base and improving the investment climate. That would be
a mistake.
Oil revenues, without extraordinary discipline, concentrate wealth rather than distribute it. The resource curse is not a myth. Rents flow upward. Politics become more transactional. And there is a deeper risk — that oil money disrupts the very virtuous cycle that sustained Uganda for forty years, funding patronage rather than institutions, rewarding loyalty rather than productivity, and quietly hollowing out the foundations that made growth possible.
Uganda cannot afford to let oil
scuttle four decades of hard-won progress. The revenues must serve the economy,
not replace it.
Forty years
is long enough for an entire generation to grow up knowing only stability. The
battles that produced it — over VAT, privatisation, liberalisation — are
ancient history to a 25-year-old in Kikoni. The architecture of the economy is
taken for granted, like electricity that only becomes remarkable when it goes
off.
The
restoration of security and the revitalisation of the economy is a genuine
achievement. It should be acknowledged clearly and without embarrassment.
But the next forty years will be defined by whether those gains reach the farmer in Kapchorwa, the trader in Arua, the graduate in Lira who is talented, ambitious, and running out of patience.
That is the
real measure of the milestone. And it remains unfinished business.