CORRUPTION CORRUPTS EVERYONE IT TOUCHES

One of the more sobering ways to understand corruption is to translate the numbers into human terms.

Last year, Mulago National Referral Hospital told Parliament that its Shs122 billion allocation was grossly inadequate to run the country's largest referral facility and fully operationalise critical units like intensive care. Recent hospital and research data indicate Mulago now handles roughly three million patient interactions annually. That means, very roughly, the hospital spends about Shs40,000 per patient encounter.

Now place that beside the roughly Shs28 billion reportedly discovered in currencies in properties linked to former Speaker Anita Among.

At Mulago's expenditure ratios, that amount alone could theoretically support treatment for about 700,000 patient visits – or the population of Isingiro district; or nearly triple the Shs10 billion the hospital said it urgently needed to fully operationalise its intensive care units...

But here is what the numbers alone cannot capture: corruption does not simply steal money. It corrupts everything it touches. The thief. The witness. The bystander. Eventually, the entire society.

That is the real danger.

It first corrupts the individual.

Once individuals accumulate extraordinary wealth through public office, losing power becomes existential. Retirement stops being an option because without continued access to the machinery of the state, sustaining those lifestyles becomes impossible. No employer in Uganda's economy pays enough to maintain convoys, mansions, entourages, luxury shopping and political patronage networks at that scale. Very few legitimate businesses generate such cash flows either.

So corruption mutates. What begins as theft becomes dependency. What begins as greed becomes survival. Office holders stop behaving like custodians of public institutions and begin behaving like shareholders protecting a revenue stream...

That perhaps explains reports that Anita Among briefly contemplated resisting directives to step aside as Speaker — reportedly exploring an independent political path before raids on homes and the freezing of accounts neutralised those ambitions. One almost understands the logic emotionally, even while rejecting it morally. When a person becomes accustomed to limitless facilitation and elite privilege, stepping away from office can feel economically catastrophic.

Corruption has, by that point, already corrupted the person entirely.

It then corrupts institutions.

As corruption deepens, loyalty shifts from institutions to networks of mutual protection. Politicians protect procurement officials. Procurement officials protect businesspeople. Security actors protect politicians. Everyone possesses compromising information about everyone else. The system survives less on legitimacy and more on shared vulnerability.

Public institutions — hospitals, Parliament, the judiciary stop functioning as instruments of national development and begin operating as platforms for elite extraction. The state does not disappear. It is simply repurposed.

But most insidiously, corruption corrupts the rest of us.

One of the most depressing features of recent public discussions around the Anita Among saga has been the language ordinary people casually use. "Let her eat, after all other people are eating." "Why was she eating all that alone?" "People just need to know when to stop eating."

Notice what has happened there. The debate is no longer whether stealing public resources is wrong. It has shifted to whether the sharing was equitable, or whether the appetite simply became too visible. Corruption has been normalised — treated as an unofficial entitlement of office. We have stopped measuring leaders against principles and begun measuring them against the hunger of those around them.

That is how corruption corrupts citizens. It lowers the moral floor so gradually that people barely notice they are standing somewhere they once would never have tolerated.

This matters because a society can survive inequality. What it cannot survive is inequality stripped of legitimacy. A businessman who builds factories and creates jobs may grow rich and still command public admiration. But wealth born of political office triggers deep resentment, because citizens instinctively understand that public office exists to protect the common good — not to serve as a private ATM.

History repeatedly confirms this. Societies rarely collapse simply because people are poor. They collapse when citizens become convinced that elites are enriching themselves obscenely while ordinary people cannot afford school fees, rent or hospital bills. The French Revolution was fuelled as much by the visible excess of the aristocracy as by poverty itself. The Arab Spring was driven not only by unemployment but by perceptions of corruption, exclusion and elite impunity.

Hopelessness is politically combustible. People eventually stop asking how to succeed within the system and begin asking whether the system itself deserves to survive.

Social media has sharpened this danger considerably. Lifestyles once hidden behind walls are now displayed in real time before frustrated citizens. The gap between what is flaunted and what is endured has never been more visible — or more volatile.

Uganda today is wealthier than it was 40 years ago. There are more banks, highways, telecom towers, malls and private fortunes than ever before. But development without fairness creates instability, because visible prosperity raises expectations. People can tolerate hardship. What they struggle to tolerate is humiliation.

And that is why the fight against corruption cannot be framed as merely a moral or financial issue. It is a question of what kind of society we are becoming. Every time we shrug at stolen billions. Every time we joke about who is "eating." Every time we measure a leader's wrongdoing against someone else's greed rather than against principle — corruption wins another convert.

Because that is precisely how corruption works. It does not only take the money.

It takes us with it.

THE FALL OF AMONG WAS NOT ABOUT CORRUPTION

After perhaps the most intense weekend of her life, Uganda’s Speaker of Parliament Anita Among announced that she would not put herself up for re-election as leader of the country’s legislature in the next Parliament.

The decision came after days of extraordinary political drama: armed security personnel surrounding her home, reports of billions of shillings discovered in dollars, euros and pounds, and mounting public outrage over her newly acquired Rolls Royce.

"In the end, it was the Rolls Royce that finally shifted Anita Among from controversial politician into symbol of elite excess...

The luxury vehicle, reportedly flown into Uganda brand new in January rather than imported second-hand like most luxury vehicles in the country, instantly became politically toxic. Depending on specification, a new Rolls-Royce Cullinan or comparable Rolls Royce model can retail between £350,000 and £450,000 before shipping, taxes and customisation — roughly Shs1.7 billion to Shs2.2 billion at current exchange rates, and potentially much higher once fully imported into Uganda.

In a country where many civil servants struggle to survive on monthly salaries below Shs1 million, the symbolism was devastating.

The subsequent raid merely completed the picture in the public mind.

And in politics, once the public mind settles, recovery becomes almost impossible.

Ironically, she seemed politically untouchable only weeks ago

What makes Among’s apparent fall even more startling is that she emerged from the recent election cycle looking politically stronger than almost anyone in the system except President Yoweri Museveni himself.

Unlike many senior politicians who spent months fighting for survival in their constituencies, Among appeared liberated from ordinary political anxieties. She was elected virtually unopposed and therefore free to crisscross the country shepherding Museveni’s campaign effort and consolidating influence inside the ruling establishment.

At the height of the campaign season, she projected the aura of a politician whose future looked secure, expansive and perhaps even ascendant.

Which is why the speed of her apparent political collapse has caught nearly everyone by surprise.

From indebted MPs to dangerously wealthy politicians

Back on September 9, 2012, in a Shillings & Cents commentary titled “Uganda: MP indebtedness compromising Parliament?” Shillings & Cents — Uganda: MP indebtedness compromising Parliament? (September 9, 2012), I argued that financial vulnerability weakens independent political judgement because politicians trapped by debt become captives of survival rather than servants of principle.

But there is an opposite side to that same coin: excessive accumulation can be just as politically dangerous as indebtedness.

Because wealth changes political incentives.

Ironically, the two realities may now have collided in spectacular fashion inside Parliament itself. For years, quiet whispers around Kampala’s political corridors have suggested that many MPs are indebted up to their eyeballs, not just to banks, but directly to powerful parliamentary figures including Anita Among and Deputy Speaker Thomas Tayebwa, who allegedly evolved into major lenders to legislators.

That matters politically.

Because debt creates dependency. A financially desperate MP is easier to influence, easier to mobilise and easier to discipline. In such an environment, political authority stops being purely institutional and increasingly becomes financial. Patronage then evolves from campaign support into a parallel credit system operating within the legislature itself.

Seen this way, the wealth allegations against Among are not just about personal excess. They potentially point to the emergence of an alternative internal power structure rooted not merely in constitutional office but in financial leverage over fellow politicians...

The coalition that may now be unravelling

But power built through financial patronage rarely operates alone. It inevitably creates a coalition — beneficiaries, loyalists, fixers and opportunists tied together not necessarily by ideology but by access, favours and mutual vulnerability.

Among appears to have cobbled together precisely such a coalition.

Many within it may never have fully understood what her ultimate political endgame was. Some may simply have been responding to immediate incentives: campaign financing, loans, committee influence, parliamentary protection or proximity to power. But once a system begins to suspect that such a coalition is evolving beyond patronage into an independent political centre of gravity, alarm bells inevitably begin ringing.

Which is why this process may still be in its early stages.

It would not be surprising if more politicians, brokers and parliamentary actors are quietly summoned by security agencies in the coming weeks — at best to explain their role within the broader network, at worst to help stitch Among up politically and legally...

Because elite political takedowns are rarely clean or isolated affairs. They often involve carefully dismantling the ecosystem around the principal target.

Yet therein also lies the regime’s dilemma.

The system must manage the process carefully because a genuinely unconstrained anti-corruption campaign could end up bringing down far more than a single political figure. Too many interests are interconnected. Too many careers, alliances and financial relationships overlap.

A serious, uncontrolled excavation of corruption at the highest levels could destabilise the very political edifice the state is trying to preserve.

And that carries potentially damning political consequences.

“Rich men get into politics to protect their wealth”

My father once told me something that sounded cynical at the time but has proved remarkably accurate over the years: “Rich men get into politics to protect their wealth.”

Not necessarily to create wealth. To protect it.

The moment wealth reaches a certain scale, politics stops being an arena of service and becomes a form of insurance. A shield. A guarantee against investigation, prosecution, confiscation or political extinction. That is why across the world, from oligarchies to fragile democracies, wealth and political power eventually begin circling each other like magnets.

In Uganda’s case, this intersection has become increasingly delicate because of the country’s unresolved succession question.

That is why the Anita Among story cannot simply be understood as an anti-corruption story. Corruption is merely the surface layer. The deeper issue is political consequence...

When an individual accumulates wealth at the scale now being alleged, especially while occupying the third most powerful office in the land, it inevitably creates political possibilities. Wealth brings networks. Networks bring influence. Influence breeds ambition, whether stated openly or quietly nurtured behind closed doors.

It would not be far-fetched to conclude that at some point, if she felt politically threatened or isolated, Among’s resources could eventually become the foundation for a play for higher office or, at the very least, a destabilising political faction.

The system gave her enough rope

Power in politics is rarely surrendered voluntarily. It is managed pre-emptively.

That is why the current developments feel less like spontaneous accountability and more like controlled political surgery.

The system appears to have given her enough rope to hang herself. The Rolls Royce became symbolic excess at a time when ordinary Ugandans are struggling with school fees, rent and taxes. The foreign currency allegations then transformed public irritation into moral outrage. She is now politically indefensible in the court of public opinion, which is perhaps the most important battlefield of all.

Was the Sovereignty Bill really about foreign influence?

But there is another intriguing layer to this story that may explain the hurried and controversial introduction of the Protection of Sovereignty Bill earlier this month, and the insistence that the 11th Parliament pass it as virtually its last order of business.

It seems inconceivable that such vast quantities of dollars, euros and pounds could have been accumulated purely through domestic circulation. Hard currency at that scale immediately raises uncomfortable questions about external linkages, foreign financial networks and possible international political interests. Whether those suspicions are true or not almost becomes secondary because in statecraft perception often matters as much as fact.

If the security establishment had reason to believe that foreign actors were cultivating relationships with ambitious political elites during a sensitive succession moment, then the Sovereignty Bill begins to look less random and more strategic.

Suddenly the urgency makes sense.

Suddenly the procedural flaws, the haste and the political pressure to pass it before the end of the parliamentary term begin to appear less like legislative incompetence and more like elite panic...

The state may have concluded that Uganda is entering the dangerous phase many countries face during leadership transitions: the point where internal elite competition starts attracting foreign interest and external influence operations.

History is full of such moments.

Foreign governments and interests rarely wait for transitions to happen before positioning themselves. They cultivate networks early, identify emerging centres of power and quietly build leverage. In fragile political environments, money often becomes the first instrument of influence.

Seen through that lens, the move against Among may not simply have been about corruption or even succession management. It may also have been about shutting down what the system perceived as an emerging node of political and possibly foreign-backed power before it fully matured.

Norbert Mao’s curious role

There is also the curious role played by Norbert Mao in recent weeks. His increasingly public positioning around the Speakership now looks less accidental and more tactical. In hindsight, Mao may have been deployed as a political red herring — a deliberate irritant designed to ruffle Among’s feathers, unsettle her camp and pressure her into strategic mistakes.

Politics often works this way. Direct confrontation is avoided until the target has been psychologically isolated, politically cornered and emotionally destabilised.

One suspects there may initially have been efforts to engineer a quiet exit — a negotiated stepping aside in exchange for dignity, protection and preservation of some political relevance. But if Among resisted such overtures, believing perhaps that her networks, resources and institutional position still gave her leverage, then the escalation we are now witnessing becomes easier to understand...

The result has been a political sideshow that increasingly feels choreographed but is far from over.

Because once elite conflicts spill into public view, they develop their own momentum. Rival factions emerge. Old grudges resurface. Opportunists circle. The public becomes emotionally invested. And institutions themselves can become theatres of political signalling.

The transition question lurking beneath everything

And timing matters.

These developments are unfolding immediately after Museveni’s swearing-in on May 12 and just before new cabinet and political appointments are expected. That cannot be accidental. Political transitions, especially long-managed ones, are rarely dramatic events announced in a single speech. They are often quiet processes involving the careful elimination of obstacles, rivals, uncertainties and centres of independent power.

In many ways, Among may have become the last major obstacle to what appears to be an attempt at constructing an orderly transition architecture behind closed doors...

Uganda’s political history teaches us that transitions are feared precisely because they can easily descend into elite fragmentation. The governing system therefore has every incentive to tightly control the process, neutralise unpredictable actors and ensure that succession happens within a carefully supervised framework.

Seen through that lens, the move against Among begins to make strategic sense.

Why nations fail

The irony, however, is that this entire saga also validates another warning I wrote about recently on August 18, 2024, in a Shillings & Cents commentary titled “Uganda, beware of Why Nations Fail” Shillings & Cents — Uganda, beware of Why Nations Fail (August 18, 2024), discussing Why Nations Fail.

Nations fail not simply because leaders steal. Many countries survive corruption for decades. Nations fail when institutions become too weak to regulate the ambitions of powerful individuals and when political systems become overly personalised.

When wealth accumulation becomes inseparable from state power, politics itself becomes a high-stakes survival game. Public office stops being about governance and becomes access to protection. Losing office then becomes existential.

That is where danger begins.

Because once political competition is no longer about ideas, competence or ideology but about protection of accumulated wealth, transitions become harder, more suspicious and potentially more unstable.

The real lesson

Ironically, the Among saga may therefore reveal both the strength and weakness of the current system simultaneously.

Its strength lies in demonstrating that no political figure, however powerful, is untouchable if the system decides otherwise.

Its weakness lies in the uncomfortable public realisation that wealth accumulation at the highest levels may have proceeded unchecked until political calculations shifted.

Ugandans should therefore resist the temptation to see this merely as entertainment or palace intrigue. It is actually a revealing window into how power is organised, managed and contested in modern Uganda.

And perhaps the biggest lesson is this: in political systems where wealth and power become too intertwined, the fall of powerful individuals is rarely about morality alone.

It is usually about timing.