“He who commits the crime never drops his own sin under the ground.”
– African proverb (Ganda)
This wisdom warns us: wrongdoing never stays buried.
My journey to Crime and Punishment
At Blessed Sacrament Kimaanya Secondary School, I routinely dodged dull lessons to hide away in Masaka Town Public Library, where I devoured Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment by candlelight. Raskolnikov’s tortured psychology—his theory that exceptional beings can break moral law—revealed to me how poverty pushes crime, and how guilt and redemption interplay in the human soul. A poor student in 19th‑century St. Petersburg commits murder, believing himself above the law—but his mental collapse and eventual repentance teach the power of conscience and social responsibility.
That Russian narrative sparked my interest in other works tackling crime and its consequences: Albert Camus’s The Stranger, exploring absurd violence and alienation; Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory, about a tortured priest in a corrupt state; Chinua Achebe’s Arrow of God, in which tradition, law, and moral order clash.
Today, I passionately write about my Uganda with these lessons etched in my mind:
Small crimes often invite harsh mob justice, while corporate crime or political corruption goes unpunished—or even rewarded.
Crime and punishment in Uganda
Petty crime versus mob justice: In Uganda, petty thieves or petty offenders often face brutal community retribution—even extrajudicial killings. Yet corporate and political criminals often escape real punishment, protected by lawyers, patronage, and political power.
Major crimes and punishments: Under the Penal Code Act, crimes such as armed robbery, embezzlement, and abuse of office carry heavy prison terms—up to life imprisonment or capital punishment (for murder). However, enforcement is inconsistent. The law is firm; application is not.
Corruption: grand crime, minimal punishment: Inspector General of Government Beti Kamya calls corruption “a monster, aggressive cancer… if we don’t fight and defeat it, it is going to kill Uganda”. The IGG reports that Uganda loses nearly Shs 9–10 trillion annually—roughly 44%of domestic revenue—to corruption. That’s about $2.5 billion a year, money that could fund schools, hospitals, clean water—even parish‑level infrastructure.
Sector losses include environmental resources (Shs 2.2–2.8 trillion), payroll absenteeism (Shs 2.3 trillion), procurement fraud (Shs 600–800 billion), bribery of judges (Shs 762 billion), and royalties tied to natural resources (Shs 858 billion).
Conviction and recovery rates? Grim. Only 15% of targeted funds recovered; Shs 2.3 billion of tens of billions in losses. In financial year 2023/24, IGG concluded 55 court cases, with just 26 convictions—a conviction rate of 50%.
Named individuals and political indulgence
Examples abound of alleged corruption ignored or pardoned by President Yoweri Museveni:
- Sam Kutesa, former Foreign Minister, alleged corruption scandals yet maintained high office.
- Captain Mike Mukula, accused of embezzling government funds, was later nominated to senior positions.
Museveni famously said he preferred that thieves keep their wealth invested in Uganda rather than move money abroad—arguing that building five‑star hotels at least kept capital local. He has, on several occasions, pardoned officials implicated in graft—rewarding them with ministries or top posts, signalling lip service to anti‑corruption.
At the same time, Beti Kamya has publicly lamented government inaction and weak enforcement: She is known for standing up and telling the President that “Corruption is spreading like a pandemic”. She called for a personal audit of all public office holders and urged citizens to become anti‑corruption ambassadors in their parishes, asking: “Where did you get all this money from?” As a lawyer, I find Beti Kamya’s call timely. Legal brains now have a strong basis to go hard against the untouchable corrupt public officials in Uganda.
The moral lesson
Just as Raskolnikov’s conscience destroyed him, ungoverned greed and impunity erode Uganda’s moral and economic foundations. The African proverb reminds us: sins unseen still poison the land. Petty theft draws summary justice, while grand theft in government is glossed over. This inversion undermines trust, justice, and the very idea of rule of law.
Call to action
- Speak up locally. When your neighbor builds a mansion on public money, ask: Where did you get this?
- Support IGG and watchdogs. Demand the Inspectorate be funded, digitalized, and empowered to investigate and prosecute—even high-level cases.
- Demand legislative reform. Push for stronger anti‑graft laws, better recovery mechanisms, and protection for whistleblowers.
- Vote wisely and hold leaders to account. Refuse to support political pardons of convicted or accused officials.
- Educate others. Share stories—like mine of Crime and Punishment—to show that guilt always catches up even if justice seems delayed.
Conclusion
“He who commits the crime never drops his own sin under the ground.” Crime might flourish when laws are ignored or manipulated. Yet punishment inevitably follows. Uganda loses nearly Shs 10 trillion each year to corruption—44% of domestic revenue. But impunity reigns because small crimes face mob justice, while grand crimes enjoy protection. My encounter with Crime and Punishment taught me that poverty may fuel crime—but power protects it. We must shift the moral scales: no crime should be too small, and no criminal too big to face justice. It is a collective duty—across parishes, institutions, homes—to reclaim Uganda’s future.
By Kato Mukasa