Last week, President Yoweri Museveni was re-elected for another term in office, extending a political era that has now spanned four decades.
Few administrations in the developing world have presided over such a long arc of economic change, and fewer still can credibly point to the turnaround Uganda has experienced since the late 1980s.
Whichever way one looks at it, today’s economy is a far cry from the dark days of super-inflation, commodity shortages and broken infrastructure. There was a time when prices doubled almost on a whim, when basics vanished from shop shelves, and when moving produce from farm to market was an exercise in endurance rather than commerce. Contrast that with the present: inflation that has largely been tamed, markets stocked with goods from across the region and beyond, and an infrastructure network that—while still incomplete—would have been unimaginable to an earlier generation...
At the core of this shift has been macroeconomic stability and the liberalisation of markets. These ideas may sound technocratic, even dull, but they are the quiet enablers of progress. Stable prices allow households to plan and businesses to invest. Liberalised markets, imperfect as they are, unlocked private initiative and forced efficiencies into an economy once strangled by controls.
Over the years,
billions of dollars have flowed into Uganda—some from foreign investors, many
from local businessmen who finally felt confident enough to risk their own
capital. The results are visible across banking, telecommunications, retail,
construction and services.
But history offers a stern warning: success breeds temptation. Or, as the proverb goes, give them an inch and they will take a mile. With achievement come expectations; with stability come louder demands. That is natural. People who have known stability demand prosperity; those who have tasted growth demand inclusion. The challenge for the next five years is to meet these expectations without destroying the foundations that made them possible...
The first test is maintaining macroeconomic
stability. Uganda has enjoyed such a long period of relatively low inflation
that many have forgotten what inflation feels like. Amnesia is dangerous. It
invites policy flirtations with ideas that sound compassionate but are fiscally
reckless—most notably pouring billions into failing state enterprises.
Inflation does not announce its return politely; it creeps in through budget
indiscipline and explodes through excess. When it arrives, it punishes the poor
first and hardest.
The second test is the management of oil
revenues. Oil offers a once-in-a-generation opportunity to upgrade social
services and the general business environment. Used wisely, it can finance
healthcare, education, roads and energy—investments that raise productivity
long after the last barrel is pumped. Used badly, it becomes a curse:
consumption over assets, patronage over productivity. The difference is not oil
itself, but discipline, transparency and execution.
A third temptation is to roll back liberalisation simply because government now has more resources. The argument that the state should “get back into business” resurfaces whenever revenues rise. It ignores history. Many state-owned enterprises did not collapse for lack of money; they collapsed due to poor management, weak incentives and terrible oversight. Fresh capital injected into unreformed governance structures is not reform, it is denial.
Then there is corruption—the tiger we do not
want to ride. Corruption widens inequality, erodes trust and convinces citizens
that the system is rigged. In the short term it masquerades as grease; in the
long term it becomes sand in the gears. Left unchecked, it feeds resentment
that can spill into unrest and political instability. Investors can price risk;
they struggle with unpredictability born of public anger.
Yet even as we guard these fundamentals, there is another danger: resting on our laurels. Stability is not an end state; it is a platform. To sustain momentum—and, crucially, to spread the gains more equitably, we must take calculated risks. Not reckless leaps, but deliberate stretches that deepen inclusion without undermining the stability we have worked so hard to build...
Nowhere is this more urgent than agriculture,
the livelihood of roughly seven in every ten Ugandans. For too long, our debates
have stopped at production—plant more, harvest more. Productivity matters, yes,
but production alone does not build prosperity. Farmers remain poor not merely
because they produce little, but because they are disconnected from markets,
locked out of processing, and squeezed in distribution.
The next phase must take a hard look at the
entire value chain. Productivity on the farm must be matched by access to
inputs and finance, reliable storage, processing capacity, logistics, branding
and marketing. Markets must be enabled so that higher yields translate into
higher and more stable incomes. When farmers see clear pathways to buyers,
incentives change: investment rises, quality improves and risk becomes
manageable. That is how agriculture becomes a business rather than a
subsistence trap—and how wealth disparities begin to narrow.
If we get this right, another long-standing anxiety begins to fade: the youthful bulge. A young population is often spoken of as a threat, something we constantly look over our shoulders for. But youth are only a threat in an economy that cannot absorb their energy. In an economy that creates productive work, connects effort to reward and opens pathways up value chains, they become our greatest asset. The same reforms that deepen agricultural value chains and strengthen the business environment are the ones that turn demography into destiny.
The delicate task ahead is balance. We must
continue doing what brought us this far—discipline, openness and
stability—while stretching our capacities to include more Ugandans in growth.
Get too excited and we risk inflation, waste and reversal. Move too cautiously
and we risk stagnation, inequality and a squandered demographic dividend.
The story of the last forty years shows what sensible economics can achieve. The question for the next five is whether we can protect those gains, take calculated risks, and spread prosperity more evenly. The inch has been taken. The challenge now is to resist the mile—while still daring to move forward.
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