Across ministries and especially in local governments, complaints have intensified that the IG has grown too weak, compromised or politically entangled to fulfil its mandate.
For decades, Ugandans have looked to the office of the Inspectorate of Government (IGG) as the ultimate guardian against corruption — a constitutional watchdog entrusted with enforcing accountability, discipline and integrity across public institutions.
Mandated to investigate misuse of public funds and ensure that government operations are conducted transparently, the IGG was once seen as the final shield protecting public resources from those who seek to exploit them.
Today, however, growing public frustration suggests that confidence in this crucial institution is steadily eroding.
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Across ministries and especially in local governments, complaints have intensified that the IG has grown too weak, compromised or politically entangled to fulfil its mandate.
Many civil servants whisper with resignation that the Inspectorate has “gone soft” — or worse, crossed to the very side it was established to fight.
Case backlogs continue to swell, investigations stall, suspects return to office, and files disappear without explanation.
Instead of deterrence, a sense of impunity is spreading, fueled by doubts over whether Uganda’s top anti-corruption office still has the will — or the independence — to confront entrenched networks of power.
The unsettling situation in Rakai and Kyotera districts has become the clearest example of this crisis. Last year, three senior officers — Aaron Kayinga, Human Resource Officer of Kyotera District; Jamil Kabiito, Principal HR Officer of Kyotera; and Rose Yawe, Principal HR Officer of Rakai — were arrested over a payroll fraud scheme estimated at more than sh1.5bn.
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Investigations found that the officers allegedly inflated salaries for selected government workers such as teachers, health staff and administrators and then pressured them to withdraw the “excess funds” and surrender the cash to them.
When Deputy IGG Anne Muhairwe visited Kyotera to record statements, many staff members were so terrified of retaliation that they refused to speak openly.
She resorted to collecting anonymous written testimonies on slips of paper. One read: “These people would deposit almost ten times your salary on your account and later call saying it was a mistake. We withdrew the money and took it to them. We are now repaying salary loans for money we never used.”
Despite these revelations, the matter has apparently gone silent. Even more shocking to many civil servants is that the officers are reportedly back in office, with no refund made and no public update about the fate of the case.
For many, it is a painful symbol of how corruption cases appear to dissolve quietly, leaving whistle-blowers exposed and emboldening wrongdoers.
The return of Kayinga is particularly disturbing because it is not his first controversy; in 2021 he was arrested for allegedly soliciting a bribe from a job-seeker.
Yet he remains on government payroll, a fact civil servants interpret as evidence of deep-rooted protection networks.
As one employee who requested anonymity lamented, “The IGG arrests small fish. When the big ones are caught, they return quietly. How do you steal over a billion shillings and come back to office?”
Similar developments at national level have only strengthened perceptions of weakness. In June 2022, former Uganda Airlines CEO Cornwell Muleya was arrested for allegedly defying IGG summons, but was later acquitted when court accepted that he had travelled for medical treatment.
In another high-profile matter, the IGG quietly withdrew charges against three officials in the Office of the Prime Minister implicated alongside Minister Mary Goretti Kitutu in a Shs 1.5 billion scandal, effectively leaving only the minister on the charge sheet.
And in April 2025, the High Court quashed the IGG’s interdiction of Commissioner for Land Registration Baker Mugaino, calling the action illegal and awarding him Shs 50 million in damages. These courtroom outcomes have fueled the perception that the Inspectorate can bark but cannot bite.
The IGG’s own statistics add to the public unease. In the 2023/24 financial year, the office reported losses of at least sh30bn to corruption, received 2,377 graft-related complaints and concluded only 55 cases.
Of these, 26 resulted in convictions — a success rate of just under 47 percent — while nine ended in acquittals, 18 were withdrawn and two dismissed. Earlier half-year figures from 2022 also showed a high proportion of cases ending in acquittal or withdrawal.
To an already skeptical public, these numbers do not represent an institution winning the anti-corruption war; they signal one struggling to assert relevance and effectiveness.
Across local governments, payroll fraud, ghost workers and procurement scams continue draining funds meant for teachers, hospitals and community infrastructure.
Yet in many cases, suspects resume duty, are transferred or even promoted. Civil servants increasingly believe that some officers under investigation simply bribe their way out through networks involving IGG field staff and district Chief Administrative Officers, creating what many describe as a revolving-door scandal culture: arrest, publicity, silence, reinstatement.
“If the IGG cannot protect government funds from a few rogue officers,” one senior district worker asked, “who will?”
The Inspectorate of Government, once a beacon of hope for citizens weary of corruption, now faces an identity crisis. Many Ugandans see an institution more reactive than proactive, more bureaucratic than decisive, and increasingly cautious where powerful interests are involved.
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Without consistent follow-through, visible recoveries, meaningful sanctions and open communication with the public, the anti-graft body risks being perceived not as the guardian of integrity, but as another cog in a system where corruption endures — and sometimes even flourishes.
The Rakai–Kyotera case is therefore much more than a regional scandal; it has become a symbol of a widening national trust gap.
At stake is not merely one investigation, but the credibility of Uganda’s anti-corruption architecture.
Unless the IGG reasserts its authority, enforces accountability without fear or favour and demonstrates clear results, Ugandans will continue asking an uncomfortable question: is the IGG asleep on the job — or has it been captured by the very corruption it was created to fight?
Until that question is answered with decisive action, confidence in Uganda’s anti-corruption machinery will remain fragile, and those who plunder public resources will continue to thrive under the gaze of the institution meant to stop them.
