Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and Uganda’s right to development

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OPINION

By Crispin Kaheru

Abraham Maslow, an American psychologist, drew a pyramid of human needs in 1943. At the bottom: Food, water, health, shelter. Above that: Safety.

Then belonging, esteem, and finally self-actualisation. His idea was about people, but it fits nations too. Before you dream, you eat. Before you preach, you heal. Before you vote, you live. A steady body makes a steady citizen. That is not cynicism. It is order.

Uganda is still climbing those first steps. You do not see it in glossy reports; you see it in the markets.

The woman at Kalerwe bending over her mat of vegetables, praying the rain holds and the buyers come. The boy in Katwe weighing his coins, hoping they stretch into supper.

In Kitgum, a father on a ladder, patching his leaking roof.

In Hoima, a grandmother with three grandchildren, counting school fees and posho before she counts the party manifestos. These are not side stories. They are the true stage of freedom.

Yet in boardrooms and policy circles, Uganda is described as if it already stands at the pyramid’s peak. Civil rights. Political rights. Freedom of assembly and speech.

All essential, yes. But fragile without food, safety and security. Try chanting for democracy on an empty stomach.

Try marching for justice with bare feet. A starving house cannot carry a roof. To demand it is not progress. It is cruelty.

History is proof. At independence in 1962, Uganda rushed into politics without first building her economy. We built parliaments before factories.

We wrote constitutions before granaries. Then came the storms. Coups in 1971 and 1985, collapse in 1979, a disputed election in 1980. The feet of the nation were cut on the thorns of hunger and poverty. Politics without production limped and fell.

In 1995, a new Constitution promised a generous Bill of Rights. But a book cannot feed a child. When Universal Primary Education came in 1997, and Universal Secondary Education in 2007, we saw glimpses of Maslow in action. Start at the base, open doors, build slowly upward.

When oil was confirmed in the Albertine in 2006, we cheered. But oil alone is not food. Resources raise expectations; only value addition raises lives.

If you doubt, go to a campaign rally. The music booms. The motorcade roars.

The candidate climbs the stage. Before promises, hands rise from the crowd, fingers to throats. Not asking for water, but for relief. Sugar. Salt. Soap. A sachet of gin. A note for a meal.

That is the unspoken manifesto. A hungry voter will not clap for electoral reforms; he claps for supper. A thirsty crowd will not chant for rights; it chants for refreshments. This is not ignorance. It is evidence. Maslow on the campaign trail. Until food is sure, the vote is for sale.

This is how desperation dresses as democracy. A hungry graduate casts his ballot for whoever buys him lunch. A frustrated young woman cheers not the speech, but the envelope at the end. That is not conviction; it is survival. It is not consent, but rather coping.

Freedoms do not float alone. They grow from roots of livelihood. A malnourished child has a right to speak, but his voice cannot carry. A sick mother has a right to assemble, but her body cannot stand. A jobless son has a right to protest, but his pockets hold him back.

Our Constitution knew this. It promised education, health, work, dignity. Not luxuries, but rather oxygen. Secure them and speech gains teeth.

Secure them and assembly gains legs. Neglect them and rights turn brittle, traded away for a bar of soap.

COVID-19 exposed the truth again. In 2020, people cried for oxygen and food, not political assemblies. In 2021, voting under restrictions proved it once more: Without life and livelihood, all other freedoms float like paper in the wind.

Uganda is not failing; Uganda is finding her footing. The task is to build the base. Feed before you lead. Heal before you appeal. Roof before the rostrum. Jobs before jargon. Bread on the table makes ballots harder to buy.

So what do we do? Let us fix farming so the village sells more than it buys. Keep roads open, power steady, water clean. Stock clinics and finish schools so health and learning are not luck.

Train the youth for the jobs that matter, in machines, metal, code, crops. Spread opportunity beyond Kampala. Link producers to markets so sweat finds a buyer, not just a broker.

Protect culture so belonging and identity itself is a shield. Do this, and rights stop being paper. They become life.

Stop imagining we can leap to the peak. No shortcuts. No skylifts. A country that feeds itself argues better. A country that works listens closer. A country with roofs has time to raise voices. Bread makes ballots honest. Wages make whistles loud. Dignity makes dissent safe.

This is not a call to silence. It is a call to strength. Civil space grows when poverty shrinks. Democracy deepens when hunger fades. The rule is stubborn and simple: Basics first, freedoms firm.

The Uganda we must build is not a castle in the air. It is a house with a strong ground floor. Where freedom is both the right to speak and the right to eat.

Where democracy is both the ritual of voting and the dignity of working. Bread before the ballot. Roof before the rally. Clinics before campaigns.

Uganda is climbing. Step by step. Rung by rung. Build the base strong, and the summit will not need to be begged for. It will rise, naturally, firmly, irreversibly.

The writer is a member of the Uganda Human Rights Commission