Images of money-weighing men indicate moral rot, not progress

When wealth becomes spectacle and stupidity becomes status, a nation has begun its descent. Not into poverty, but into moral rot. The images circulating online of men and women weighing bundles of million-shilling notes because they can not count them are not just disturbing. They are diagnostic.

They reveal, with painful clarity, how far we have drifted from the discipline and decency that build nations. What we are witnessing is not success; it is sickness. A sickness of values, a sickness of governance, and sickness of conscience.

We were told we are on the path to “catch up with Singapore.” But what path is this? Singapore was built on integrity, merit, and public discipline. Kenya, meanwhile, is being undone by the worship of money without morality. A treacherous, mine-laden cattle rut winding toward some barren mountain of shame.

The tragedy is not that corruption exists. Every country wrestles with it. The tragedy is that in Kenya, corruption has become culture. We have normalised theft to the point where looters are celebrated as successful, their crimes excused as “smart business,” and their wealth displayed as proof of divine favour. When people who can’t count money possess billions, you know the system has stopped rewarding effort and started rewarding connections.

That is how nations decay. Not through sudden collapse, but through the quiet acceptance of indecency. When citizens see thieves prosper and honest workers struggle, they learn quickly that integrity is for fools. Once that moral equation flips, no policy, no vision, and no “bottom-up” slogan can save us.

Singapore’s miracle was not born in boardrooms but in classrooms and courtrooms. It began when Lee Kuan Yew’s government decided that public office was a place of service, not self-enrichment. Civil servants were paid well but punished harshly for corruption. Merit was institutionalised. Education was prioritised. Efficiency became religion. Compare that to our reality where ministries exist to enrich cronies, state contracts are auctioned to allies, and public office is treated as a lottery win.

Our so-called elites don’t innovate; they speculate. They don’t produce; they procure. They don’t lead; they loot. The Kenyan dream has been hijacked by a cabal of primitive accumulators whose only ambition is to steal faster than they can spend.

But let us not blame them alone. The national rot is collective. We, the people, are complicit. We elect thieves because they speak our language, share our tribe, or distribute handouts. We dance when looters return home and insult those who question them. We ridicule honesty as naivety and treat decency as weakness.

That is how we became a nation where billionaires who can not count thrive while professors, teachers, and nurses starve. Where the powerful weigh money while children in public schools share pencils. Where church pulpits bless looters, and the media treats theft as spectacle.

Our moral compass is broken. We no longer ask how money is made only how much. And when people stop caring about the means, the end will always be chaos.

Kenya’s path to renewal will not be paved by speeches about economic transformation or “digital government.” It will begin the day we punish corruption with the same zeal we punish poverty. It will begin when citizens demand competence instead of charisma and when we measure leadership, not by how much one has, but by what one has done.

If we truly want to catch up with Singapore, then let us learn the real lesson: Development is not about skyscrapers or statistics. It is about systems and standards. It is about nurturing a culture where ill-gotten wealth provokes shame, not envy.

Right now, we are headed in the wrong direction. Our leaders behave like warlords distributing loot to tribesmen. Public institutions are shells of patronage. Universities once the conscience of the nation are starved of funding while thieves build private towers in their hometowns. Every scandal is forgotten by the next news cycle.

Kenya is not poor because God cursed us. Kenya is poor because greed has conquered us. We are eating the seed meant for our children and calling it harvest.

So, the next time you see someone weighing stolen money, don’t laugh. Cry. Because that scale is not measuring wealth. It is measuring our decay. And if we do not change course soon, we will discover too late that the path we mistook for progress was nothing but a cattle track to nowhere.