Few people have the courage to acknowledge error and the wisdom to seek peace

COMMENT | CRISPIN KAHERU | Twenty-seven years ago, long before Uganda’s present debates about political reconciliation, General Salim Saleh articulated a remarkably profound philosophy of leadership. It was a philosophy rooted in humility, acknowledgement of error, forgiveness and the courage to begin again.

His Tarehe Sita Statement of 6 February 1999, titled From Fighting Dictatorship to Fighting Poverty: The Struggle Continues, offers compelling evidence that Saleh’s present disposition towards reconciliation is neither political improvisation nor a convenient response to contemporary circumstances. It reflects convictions he publicly expressed nearly three decades ago.

In that statement, Saleh reproduced a poem titled It Isn’t Easy, whose opening reflections emphasised apologising, beginning again, admitting error and being unselfish. The poem proceeds to celebrate forgiveness, accepting blame, learning from mistakes and exercising restraint.

These were extraordinary reflections from a revolutionary commander barely thirteen years after the NRA’s 1986 military victory. Here was someone acknowledging that the courage required to confront an enemy is fundamentally different from the courage required to confront oneself.

More revealingly, Saleh openly acknowledged his personal and public failures, mistakes and errors of judgement – in public service, in business etc. He embraced personal responsibility and renewal. This was humility expressed voluntarily, not extracted through political defeat.

Yet our political culture increasingly mistakes reconciliation for capitulation and apology for weakness. We celebrate leaders who refuse to retreat, even when retreat would save lives. We admire political stubbornness and sometimes mistake the inability to acknowledge error for ideological consistency. Saleh’s philosophy has consistently challenged that contradiction.

His convictions also have a practical history. In November 2002, amid the devastating insurgency in northern Uganda, Saleh relocated to Gulu as part of efforts to negotiate peace with the Lord’s Resistance Army. He publicly declared that he had returned seeking peace rather than war. Although those initiatives did not immediately end the insurgency, they demonstrated his willingness to pursue dialogue alongside military approaches.

On Friday, 30 October 2026, speaking to parliamentarians at Kapeeka, Saleh explained how he had reconnected with his former revolutionary colleague, Dr Kizza Besigye after years of political estrangement. Concerned about Besigye’s deteriorating health, he intervened to facilitate specialised medical attention. He subsequently raised a larger political question; why should younger Ugandans inherit the unresolved quarrels of the revolutionary generation?

That question deserves reflection rather than reflexive suspicion. I have seen critics demand accountability, constitutional safeguards and respect for judicial independence, rightly so. Indeed, these remain indispensable. However, treating every humanitarian intervention as political manipulation or every reconciliation initiative as an admission of wrongdoing risks making peace itself politically suspect.

For clarity’s sake, let me put it this way; there is an important distinction between forgiveness, reconciliation and legal accountability. Forgiveness addresses human relationships. Reconciliation seeks to restore political and social coexistence. Accountability establishes responsibility through appropriate institutions. These are complementary, not competing, processes.

Without some capacity to forgive, political communities risk becoming permanently imprisoned by their past. This does not mean forgetting injustice or excusing wrongdoing. It means recognising that societies cannot build their futures exclusively around the grievances of yesterday.

Having participated in the struggle against dictatorship, Saleh has consistently identified poverty, deprivation and economic alienation as the next enemies. His reasoning is that political emancipation without economic transformation remains incomplete.

That argument is relevant to Uganda’s emerging conversations about consociational democracy, political accommodation and national reconciliation.

The proposed consociational arrangements are set to address how power may be shared among competing political and social interests. Neither can succeed sustainably where historical mistrust overwhelms the willingness to coexist.

Of course, Saleh’s declarations do not place him beyond scrutiny. His interventions must be assessed against their outcomes.

But intellectual fairness demands recognition of historical consistency.

The General who spoke about apology, error and forgiveness in 1999 is substantially the same General now encouraging former comrades to confront their differences and consider a common national future.

We should therefore interrogate a deeper contradiction in our political thinking. Why do we demand reconciliation while distrusting those who initiate it? Why do we insist that leaders acknowledge mistakes but interpret acknowledgement as surrender? And why must former comrades remain permanent adversaries simply because history placed them on opposing political sides?

The NRA generation demonstrated remarkable courage in confronting dictatorship. Perhaps its unfinished responsibility is to demonstrate comparable courage in confronting its own political contradictions. And Saleh’s reflections suggest an understanding of that responsibility.

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Crispin Kaheru is a Member, Uganda Human Rights Commission (UHRC)

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