One of the more interesting distortions shaping civic life in parts of Africa today, including Rwanda, is an emerging discomfort with praise. Acknowledging something that works, whether an institution, a leader, or simply a public service that performs as intended, is treated as a kind of political trespass. ALSO READ: The new quiet problem and the wounded ambition of Rwanda’s youth Meanwhile, criticism, regardless of its specificity, remains the safest currency in public discourse. The loudest voices tend to be the naysayers; the quietest are those who admit that something functions. Praise, even when grounded in evidence, is easily caricatured as loyalty or sycophancy. Critique, even when thinly substantiated, is received as neutrality or right. Together, these habits have reshaped how societies perceive performance, leadership, and progress. What is striking is how far this mentality has spread beyond government. In the NGO world, openly appreciating effective public programmes can be read as abandoning critical distance. In private companies, recognising the competence of a leader, whether a CEO or a civil servant, invites suspicion of ulterior motives. Even within organisations, staff hesitate to acknowledge the strengths of their own management, wary that admiration may be mistaken for opportunism. In my view, a civic culture that distrusts praise inevitably ends up distrusting sincerity itself. This dynamic is not abstract. Rwanda offers a telling case study. The country’s governance model, centred on order, discipline, gender equity, public health, and an insistence on measurable service delivery, has produced outcomes widely documented across global indicators. Gains in safety and security, leadership efficiency, and digital innovation have been repeatedly recognised in external assessments including the Universal Periodic Reviews. Rwanda, like all nations, has unresolved governance challenges and policies that require reform. But some areas of performance are objectively clear: systems function. Yet praise of these gains often remains subdued. Many citizens privately admire what works but are reluctant to voice such recognition openly. Their hesitation is not necessarily ideological, it is cultural. The environment has conditioned people to believe that praise is risky, that balanced recognition can be misread as allegiance, and that the safest posture is perpetual critique. As a result, public narratives often magnify what fails while muting what succeeds. This tendency became especially visible during the pandemic. Rwanda’s Covid-19 response, disciplined, coordinated, and comparatively effective for a low-income nation, was widely cited by global public-health experts. Much of this was driven by a style of leadership, embodied by President Paul Kagame, that prioritises institutional coherence, rapid decision-making, and public order. One may debate the politics but the outcomes were measurable: a country with limited resources managed a global crisis with competence that outpaced far wealthier systems. Yet at home, especially for the naysayers, expressions of appreciation remained silent. Even those who benefitted directly from timely public-health measures, food support, or emergency services often voiced their gratitude only in private but publicly critique the system. This hesitation persists even today, shaping discussions about other national achievements. For some habitual critics, praising or acknowledging effective governance, even in one area, feels incompatible with their political identity. For others, praise poses reputational risk: it can be misinterpreted as partisanship, or worse, sycophancy. The result is a civic environment where praise is not just scarce, it is socially constrained. In Africa, successes recognised globally may struggle to find equal recognition at home. This imbalance produces an odd consequence: the country’s harshest critics often define the tone of dialogue more than those who actually experience functioning systems in their daily lives. Private and civic spheres mirror this pattern of silence. NGOs running highly effective community programmes often remain overshadowed by the controversies surrounding less successful projects. Private sector actors who innovate or expand employment rarely dominate public conversation; instead, failures receive disproportionate attention. For our East African neighbour in the north, stories of quiet public service, such as individuals receiving medical support for life-saving treatment or urgent medical evacuation, surface mostly at funerals, when acknowledgment is finally stripped of political meaning. These acts were real, but their impact on civic understanding remained limited because they were never spoken of when it mattered. What ties these dynamics together is the absence of what political theorists call minimum consensus, a basic, shared agreement on factual realities. Mature societies, regardless of their political systems, accept that some achievements are simply achievements. Minimum consensus does not require ideological conformity; it requires intellectual honesty. It is the recognition that certain successes, whether in governance, civil society, business, or local communities, are national assets, not partisan statements. Where such consensus is missing, debate becomes distorted. Every success becomes contested territory. Every acknowledgment is read through a political lens. Reform becomes more difficult because people lack a shared understanding of what is working and why. This does not mean scrutiny is unnecessary. I believe, every nation, benefits from honest debate, policy critique, and robust accountability. Institutions falter. Policies need adjustment. Leaders: public, private, and civic, must be held accountable. But scrutiny that refuses to coexist with acknowledgment is incomplete. It erodes morale, dampens ambition, and obscures the lessons that could strengthen systems and leadership cultures. A healthier civic environment would allow citizens to recognise functioning systems without fear, acknowledge performance without anxiety, and appreciate leadership without collapsing respect into political sycophancy. I have a feeling that societies grow more stable when they can say, plainly, that something works, and that those responsible deserve recognition, not because they are flawless, but because they are human, and effort and integrity matter. Praise should not be a political hazard. It should be a civic act. A culture uncomfortable with praise narrows discourse; a culture capable of balanced recognition deepens it. In the end, acknowledgment is not flattery. It is a signal of maturity, a reminder that progress is real, performance exists, and that those who keep institutions running deserve to be seen not only when things go wrong, but also when they get it right. The writer is a management consultant and strategist.
