Tag: Salim Saleh

Published in mid-April 2026 and co-authored by one of Uganda’s most influential military-political figures and a development scholar, this book; “Organizing Land for National Economic Transformation” arrives at a pivotal juncture in Uganda’s post-independence political economy. It intervenes directly in the perennial “land question” that has haunted the country since the 1900 Buganda Agreement and the 1928 Bushe–Bunyoro agreements—tenure systems that layered colonial mailo grants atop pre-colonial customary orders, producing the hybrid, conflict-prone regime enshrined (yet incompletely resolved) in the 1995 Constitution and 1998 Land Act.

The book’s central claim is refreshingly materialist and anti-formalist: Uganda’s development bottleneck is not land scarcity (the country remains land-abundant) but organization. All four tenure categories—customary (65–70 % of land), mailo, freehold, and leasehold—are diagnosed as misaligned with the imperatives of agro-industrialisation under Vision 2040 and successive National Development Plans.

The authors argue that legal pluralism has created a “disjunction between law and lived reality,” generating chronic insecurity, fragmentation (<2 hectares for most agricultural households), elite capture, and underutilized industrial capacity (agro-processors operating at 30–50 % due to unreliable local raw-material supply).

Technical fixes—titling, digitization, CCOs (Certificates of Customary Ownership)—are dismissed as insufficient without deeper institutional recalibration of power relations, incentives, and coordination mechanisms.

Core Arguments and Intellectual Architecture.

Saleh and Odoch advance a pragmatic synthesis that refuses both neoliberal land-titling orthodoxy (à la Hernando de Soto’s The Mystery of Capital) and romanticized customary preservation. Customary tenure is not to be “dislodged” but reconciled with commodification: land must function simultaneously as capital (collateral, input for large-scale production) and heritage (social legitimacy, kinship-mediated access). Their proposed innovation is “Kapeekanomics”— Saleh’s coinage for a land-centered industrial logic — operationalized through an Expanded Land Use Balance Sheet (ELUBS). This framework would treat land not merely as a registrable asset but as a dynamic national accounting category that tracks productive potential, coordination failures, and alignment with industrial demand.

Complementary reforms include:

• Land pooling and long-term leases to enable contiguous holdings.

• Cooperative-law amendments for modern agribusiness.

• Investment-code tweaks linking tax incentives to “land readiness” and local sourcing.

• Blended-finance instruments and institutional “force multipliers” to reduce transaction costs and corruption risks. The analysis is strongest in its political-economy realism. It recognizes that mailo duality (landlord vs. bibanja occupant) has become a “significant structural bottleneck” generating litigation and political intervention; that freehold fragmentation via inheritance produces micro-parcels inimical to mechanisation; and that customary systems, while socially embedded, render land illiquid and vulnerable to disputes.

By foregrounding institutional capacity over mere legal formalism, the book echoes Douglass North’s emphasis on adaptive efficiency and Elinor Ostrom’s insights into governing the commons—yet applies them to Uganda’s specific hybridity.

Philosophical and Economic Merits.

The book’s refusal of binary thinking (market vs. custom; efficiency vs. equity) is intellectually sophisticated. It implicitly channels Karl Polanyi’s “double movement”: land as a fictitious commodity whose unchecked commodification risks social dislocation, yet whose under-organization stifles the “great transformation” toward industrial capitalism. The data-driven linkage between smallholder fragmentation, credit starvation, and import-dependent agro-processing is empirically grounded and policy-relevant. By insisting that industrial parks and import-substitution strategies fail without upstream land coordination, the authors offer a corrective to the hardware-heavy bias of many African industrialization plans (e.g., Ethiopia’s parks or Kenya’s Special Economic Zones).

Kapeekanomics, while stylistically idiosyncratic, functions as a useful heuristic for “embedded autonomy” in land governance—state-orchestrated yet socially legitimate.

Implications for Smallholder Farmers: The Book’s transformative potential—and its risks—crystallize most vividly when applied to Uganda’s smallholders, who till over 70 % of arable land yet remain trapped in subsistence cycles. For example, the Kigezi highlands (Kabale, Rubanda, Rukungiri and Kisoro districts), extreme population density has produced chronic fragmentation on erosion-prone slopes, with average holdings often 1–1.5 hectares split across 4–6 micro-parcels.

Households typically cultivate bananas (matooke), Irish potatoes, coffee, and vegetables under customary or hybrid tenure, practising intensive but low-yield systems vulnerable to soil degradation and climate shocks. Recent community-led restoration (contour reversed bench terraces, trenches, grass bunds) has shown modest income gains and food-security improvements, yet fragmentation still precludes mechanization or reliable aggregation for processors. Under ELUBS-driven land pooling and cooperatives, a Kigezi smallholder family could consolidate scattered plots into contiguous blocks for commercial potato or dairy production, gaining collateralized credit, shared machinery, and direct contracts with agro-industries—potentially shifting from subsistence to market-oriented surplus as President Museveni has repeatedly urged.

Long-term leases or cooperative equity stakes could preserve kinship access while feeding industrial demand. However, without ironclad consent protocols and anti-capture safeguards, the process risks elders or better-connected actors leasing prime valley land to external investors, relegating youth and women (who supply most labour) to casual wage work and eroding the very social embeddedness the authors seek to protect. In Nebbi district (West Nile), customary tenure prevails amid lower density but acute boundary and inheritance conflicts—exemplified in Erussi Sub-county, where fragmentation and disputes have directly fueled food insecurity. Smallholders grow cassava, sorghum, beans, and nascent coffee on plots often under 2 hectares, with women frequently exercising only user rights rather than control. Recent drives for joint CCOs have empowered some women, yet disputes persist.

The book’s thesis could enable cooperative pooling for cassava-starch outgrower schemes or coffee aggregation, reducing conflicts through group CCOs and linking fragmented producers to reliable buyers—mirroring calls for registration to guard against grabbers. Yet the north’s history of displacement and elite acquisitions heightens risks: top-down “organization” might accelerate leasing of communal customary land, converting smallholders into outgrowers with insecure rents rather than co-owners, especially if ELUBS prioritizes industrial metrics over local legitimacy. These vignettes expose the book’s core Polanyian insight in practice: Kapeekanomics could embed markets in social relations, but only if implementation mechanisms explicitly guard against “commercialization with dispossession.”

Political-Economy and Epistemic Limitations.

Yet the text’s provenance invites scrutiny. Theoretically, the text under-engages comparative political economy. It does not grapple with why similar consolidation efforts elsewhere succeeded or failed: Taiwan’s and South Korea’s post-war land-to-the-tiller programmes followed by voluntary consolidation provided a foundational base to the East Asian economic ‘miracle’; Ethiopia’s post-1975 nationalization and its later reversal into investor-driven leases (with attendant displacement) was largely unsuccessful in delivering sustained economic transformation despite initial equity gains; or Rwanda’s systematic titling, which traded customary flexibility for administrative legibility at the cost of some social friction. Rwanda’s policy was a strong success on technical and short to medium term metrics, with notable caveats on social and long term equity. Absent in the Book is a class analysis of how “large-scale raw materials production” might accelerate differentiation between a nascent agrarian bourgeoisie and a semi-proletarianized smallholder majority. The preservation of customary tenure is laudable, but the mechanisms for “commercialization without dispossession” remain underspecified—echoing the perennial dilemma of balancing Polanyian embeddedness with Schumpeterian creative destruction.

Missed Proposals.

The authors’ framework is bold but could be fortified by several high-impact, omitted proposals grounded in Uganda’s realities and regional lessons:

• Mandatory gender-equity clauses: Require joint spousal (or group) registration in all pooling/lease arrangements and ELUBS metrics, addressing the fact that women provide ~80 % of agricultural labour yet control minimal titled land. This would operationalize the 1995 Constitution’s protections and recent CCO successes in Nebbi-like districts.

• Climate-resilience and agroecological integration: Embed environmental safeguards (e.g., mandatory soil-conservation benchmarks, biodiversity corridors, and terrace incentives in Kigezi-style highlands) into ELUBS scoring—preventing monoculture risks from industrial coordination and building on proven local practices.

• Pilot-based scaling with independent evaluation and community veto rights: Mandate district-level pilots (e.g., one in Kigezi, one in West Nile) with third-party monitoring, farmer cooperative veto power on leases, and sunset clauses—mitigating path dependence and building legitimacy before national rollout.

• Equity-share outgrower models over pure leases: Require investors to offer smallholders equity stakes in processing cooperatives (not just rental income), ensuring value-chain participation and reducing proletarianization risks.

Institutionally, the book correctly diagnoses weak enforcement but underestimates path dependence. Uganda’s land bureaucracy is fragmented across the Uganda Land Commission, district boards, and courts; constitutional protections for occupants (Article 237) were hard-won political compromises. Amending the Land Act to enable pooling and long-term leases will require navigating Buganda’s historical sensitivities and northern communal grievances—realms where legitimacy, not mere efficiency, reigns. The authors’ faith in “institutional reform as force multiplier” is admirable but risks underplaying the tendencies of Uganda’s hybrid bureaucracy, where formal rules often bend into indecision and mission creep. The tension.At its core, the book embodies a tension between transformation and stability. It rightly rejects both radical market fundamentalism and stasis, yet its developmentalist urgency—“industrialization or bust”—may inadvertently license further centralization of land authority. In a polity where land remains the primary store of wealth and identity for the rural majority, any reform must pass the test not only of output per hectare but of legitimacy per citizen. The book gestures toward social stability; it does not fully theorise how ELUBS or Kapeekanomics might prevent new rounds of elite capture or evictions in name of “organisation.”

Conclusion: A Provocative Opening, Not a Closing Word.Organising Land for National Economic Transformation is a significant intellectual intervention—bold, policy-oriented, and refreshingly free of donor-speak platitudes. It elevates land from a “dead capital” problem to a coordination problem at the heart of Uganda’s mixed record of structural transformation. By co-authoring with an academic and grounding proposals in Uganda’s lived tenure realities, Gen. Saleh lends the text both authority and (potentially) implementability. I have added smallholder lenses from Kigezi and Nebbi to underscore the book’s urgency while highlighting where safeguards are essential. Yet the book’s deepest contribution may be catalytic rather than conclusive. Incorporating the missed proposals above —gender mandates, climate metrics, pilots with vetoes, fiscal tools, and equity models— and more, would render Kapeekanomics far more robust against capture and dislocation. The book demands a national conversation that transcends technocracy: one that integrates rigorous empirical testing of ELUBS, comparative lessons from successful (and failed) land reforms, genuine multi-stakeholder deliberation (including customary authorities, bibanja holders, civil society, and opposition voices), and these equity-sustainability guardrails. In an era when Uganda’s youth bulge, urbanisation, and climate pressures intensify land competition, Saleh and Odoch have framed the right question: how to organise abundance into prosperity without fracturing the social compact. Whether Kapeekanomics becomes praxis or an unfulfilled manifesto will depend on the political will to confront the very power structures the authors have long navigated—and to embed smallholder voices, especially in emblematic regions like Kigezi, Buganda and Nebbi, at the centre of implementation. For policymakers, scholars, and citizens alike, the book is essential reading—but it must be read critically, as both diagnosis and opening salvo in an unfinished contest over Uganda’s most contested resource – Land.

Morrison Rwakakamba is a coffee farmer based in Nyeibingo Village, Rukungiri District.