If You Want Singapore’s Results, Copy Their Honesty, Not Their Excuses

 

The Politics of Performance

In modern Kenya, politics has become theater. Every announcement is a performance — from the flashy “flagging off” ceremonies to ribbon cuttings for projects that barely exist. And nothing embodies this better than the promise to “end slums.”

“Ending slums” sounds noble, visionary, even biblical. It’s the kind of rhetoric that makes leaders look compassionate and reformist before the international stage. But slogans don’t build homes. And speeches don’t end poverty.

You cannot end slums by moving people.
You end slums by ending the conditions that create them.

In Kenya, millions live in informal settlements because the formal economy doesn’t work for them. Their wages cannot sustain rent, food, and transport — and yet, every few months, the government announces a new “affordable housing” project that somehow never gets affordable enough for the people it claims to serve.

So when President William Ruto stood before microphones and said, “Singapore’s president told me they used force to move people from slums into houses on the 10th and 15th floors,” it revealed more than he realized. It exposed the mindset of a leadership that confuses coercion with governance, and brutality with order.

The Singapore Story :A Triumph of Systems, Not Slogans

Singapore’s rise wasn’t a miracle of force ,it was a triumph of vision, discipline, and honesty.

When Lee Kuan Yew took over in 1959, Singapore was a struggling port city, poor, congested, and divided along racial lines. Unemployment was high. Housing was a national crisis — roughly two-thirds of the population lived in overcrowded slums or makeshift kampongs.

Yet, instead of speeches, Singapore got systems.
In 1960, the new government created the Housing and Development Board (HDB) — a robust public institution tasked not with demolishing slums, but with creating livable, affordable, and dignified homes for ordinary Singaporeans.

The process was transparent. The HDB was funded through public savings under the Central Provident Fund (CPF) — a mandatory contribution scheme that made every citizen both a worker and a stakeholder. The houses were built before relocation. Each estate came with water, sanitation, electricity, schools, shops, and transport links.

The government didn’t evict people into uncertainty; it invited them into dignity.

There was “force,” yes — but not the kind that relies on police trucks and teargas. It was institutional force: the discipline of civil servants, the force of anti-corruption law, the power of leadership that feared failure more than criticism.

By the 1980s, more than 80% of Singaporeans lived in HDB-built homes. By the 2000s, that number exceeded 90%. Today, Singapore’s public housing is a global model of efficiency, fairness, and inclusion.

Not because they relocated people violently — but because they planned relentlessly, spent transparently, and governed honestly.

Kenya’s Copy-Paste Governance

Kenya, like many post-colonial nations, loves copying the symbols of success without copying the substance.

We import “models,” not mindsets.
We copy “structures,” not systems.
We mimic “results,” not reform.

That’s how you end up with “affordable housing” projects that the poor can’t afford.

The government has turned housing into a photo-op economy — one where groundbreakings matter more than ground realities. Houses are launched before plans are complete, and projects are declared “transformative” long before a single unit is occupied.

Meanwhile, corruption bleeds the sector dry. Construction contracts go to politically connected companies, materials are overpriced, land acquisition is opaque, and allocation lists are manipulated.

The result? Expensive buildings standing empty while millions remain in shacks.

When the government talks of “relocating” people from informal settlements, it rarely speaks of livelihoods, schools, or community networks that get disrupted in the process. Relocation becomes a policy of displacement, not development.

And when citizens question the logic, they’re dismissed as ungrateful or “anti-progress.”

Force Without Foresight

What President Ruto called “force” in Singapore wasn’t coercion — it was collective discipline. The force of laws that applied equally to the rich and poor. The force of institutions that didn’t steal. The force of results that justified authority.

Kenya, by contrast, uses force as a shortcut for failed policy.
When a government can’t plan, it polices.
When it can’t build consensus, it builds fear.

Look at the evictions in Mukuru, Kibera, Mathare, and other informal settlements. Families are driven out overnight — sometimes during the rainy season — without compensation or alternatives. Children sleep in the open while bulldozers flatten homes built over decades.

Then, the same leaders appear on TV, promising “better houses” and “modern apartments.” But to the displaced, all they see are empty promises and broken trust.

The state can’t enforce dignity through batons. You can’t police people into prosperity.

The Real Lessons from Singapore

Singapore succeeded because its government chose institutional integrity over political showmanship.

When Lee Kuan Yew’s ministers were caught in corruption scandals, they were prosecuted, not protected.
When public projects were planned, they were completed on time and on budget.
When the poor were resettled, their welfare came first.

Singapore’s housing policy worked because it was rooted in trust. Citizens trusted that their taxes would not vanish into offshore accounts. They trusted that the housing program was designed for the public good, not private enrichment.

That trust became the invisible foundation upon which every building stood.

Kenya’s challenge isn’t lack of land or money, it’s lack of moral will.
A nation that tolerates theft cannot build fairness. A government that rewards cronies cannot eradicate slums.

If the president wants Singapore’s results, he must first confront Kenya’s disease — corruption disguised as innovation, incompetence paraded as reform.

Singapore didn’t weaponize poverty; they eradicated it.

The Choice Ahead

Mr. President, if you want Singapore’s results, start by copying their honesty, not their excuses.
Start by enforcing integrity before enforcement.
Start by delivering affordable housing that’s actually affordable.
Start by treating poverty as a problem to solve — not a prop to perform.

Because Singapore’s miracle wasn’t a miracle at all.
It was a decision.

And it’s a decision Kenya can still make — if only its leaders stopped mistaking brutality for discipline, and propaganda for progress.