Inside Uganda’s changing public relations industry
As PRAU marks 50 years, four practitioners examine a profession gaining new capabilities while still fighting for the resources, authority and trust its work demands, writes Denise Kayiraba and Jimmy Kiberu
Inside Uganda’s changing public relations industry
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OPINION
By Irene Nakasiita, Ambrose Dillan Masengere, Denise Kayiraba and Jimmy Kiberu
As PRAU marks 50 years, four practitioners examine a profession gaining new capabilities while still fighting for the resources, authority and trust its work demands.
Uganda’s public relations industry is being pulled in several directions at once. Digital platforms and artificial intelligence are making communication faster, while fragmented audiences and growing public scrutiny are making reputation harder to manage.
Practitioners are expected to understand business, anticipate crises and earn trust, yet some remain constrained by thin budgets, overstretched teams and limited influence over organisational decisions. As PRAU marks 50 years, the experiences of four practitioners reveal how much the profession has changed, why familiar frustrations persist and what it will take to turn its expanding capabilities into greater influence.
“People take decisions in our absence. When a crisis occurs, that’s when they remember that we do exist and we must manage the crisis,” says Irene Nakasiita, President of the Public Relations Association of Uganda (PRAU).
Her frustration captures an unresolved problem beneath the industry’s technological transformation. Communications teams have acquired faster tools and broader responsibilities. Their influence within organisations, and the resources available to meet those responsibilities, have not always kept pace.
As PRAU celebrates 50 years, Nakasiita’s assessment finds echoes across different generations and workplaces. Denise Kayiraba, Business Unit Head at brainchild Burson, describes a gap between the complexity of modern reputation management and the position PR occupies in some institutions. Ambrose Dillan Masengere, a PR, BTL and Events Executive at MAAD McCANN, sees practitioners still confined to publicity when they could contribute to strategy. Jimmy Kiberu, a seasoned PR professional working with Monsanto, places those concerns within a longer history of professional training, institutional reform and increasingly demanding public scrutiny.
Together, their accounts describe an industry whose challenge goes beyond keeping up with technology. Practitioners must demonstrate why their judgement matters, employers must decide how much authority to give them, and both must confront the limits of communication when institutional conduct falls short of the message.
Faster publishing raises the value of judgement
For Nakasiita, the change begins with the tools. Gathering a story once meant going into the field with a notebook, pen and camera that required film, then working through the processes of preparing and distributing the material. Several of those tasks can now be completed on one device.
“With a mobile phone, I can take a photo, I can edit a photo. I can write a story,” she says.
Kiberu’s recollections stretch further back. At Makerere, he remembers his pioneering journalism and communication cohort using typewriters while many other students submitted handwritten assignments. In the workplace, fixed telephones, walkie-talkies and vehicle-mounted radios shaped what it meant to be accessible. A car equipped with a radio could signal access to an advanced communication system.
Those memories matter because each improvement in connectivity changed more than production. It changed what people expected from institutions. Kiberu describes response windows narrowing from days to hours and increasingly to minutes. A journalist’s deadline, and now an online discussion, can move ahead regardless of an organisation’s internal timetable.
Kayiraba identifies a corresponding loss of control over the narrative. Organisations once operated in a more clearly defined media environment, with greater influence over when and how they communicated. Audiences can now challenge, amplify or reshape a message almost immediately.
“A press release is no longer the end of the communication process; it can be the beginning of a much larger conversation across multiple platforms,” she says.
The work consequently extends beyond preparing the release. Practitioners must understand digital communities, interpret reactions, recognise emerging issues and consider how a message will travel between audiences. A statement intended for one group may be read by others whose interests and expectations differ.
Dillan cautions against assuming this shift has displaced older channels. In his experience, radio, television and newspapers remain influential in Uganda alongside TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, X and WhatsApp. Effective communication requires an understanding of how these channels work together, rather than separate plans that overlook the way people encounter information across them.
His work on UNCDF’s Business Ku Ssimu Yo reinforced the importance of engaging people within their own communities. Uganda’s cultural, linguistic and economic diversity, he argues, requires listening to people’s lived experiences. A campaign designed around assumptions about an audience can miss its concerns even when its distribution is technically efficient.
Artificial intelligence introduces another change. Nakasiita sees value in using it to refine drafts, improve grammar and organise material. Some organisations, she says, are also making budgets available for paid digital tools. She encourages practitioners to learn and adapt while retaining responsibility for the message.
“You have to set the tone,” she says.
Kayiraba considers AI’s value across research, analysis, content generation and the identification of emerging issues, but places human judgement at the centre of its use. The ability to produce words does not settle whether they should be published, when they should appear or what their consequences might be.
“Knowing what to say is one thing; knowing whether it should be said, when it should be said, how it will be interpreted and what the consequences might be is where strategic PR expertise remains critical,” she says.
Dillan reaches a similar conclusion from the perspective of an emerging practitioner. If communication materials can be generated within seconds, professional value increasingly rests on contextual understanding, creativity, ethical judgement and strategic thinking. More sophisticated misinformation and manipulated content make verification more consequential.
Nakasiita also draws a boundary around creative dependence. She finds many AI-generated images repetitive and prefers original work that expresses the distinctiveness of a brand, product or creator. Her enthusiasm for efficiency therefore coexists with a concern about losing the contribution that makes an agency’s work recognisable.
Across these perspectives, faster production increases the importance of decisions made before publication. Choosing the audience, checking the facts and understanding the institution remain demanding tasks, even when drafting and editing become easier.
The fight for influence begins before the crisis
The difficulty is that organisations do not always give practitioners the access those decisions require.
“We need to enter these boardrooms,” Nakasiita says.
Her argument concerns the point at which communications professionals become involved. Being asked to explain a completed decision offers less opportunity to identify stakeholder concerns, anticipate questions or suggest changes before a problem develops.
Kayiraba sees the same mismatch in organisations where practitioners handle reputational risk, crises, digital communities, sustainability issues and executive positioning, yet enter strategic discussions too late. The breadth of the responsibility makes exclusion more consequential: the communicator is expected to understand implications that may never have been discussed with them.
“If reputation is an organisational asset, then the people responsible for protecting and building that reputation need to be part of strategic decision-making—not brought in only when there is a crisis,” she says.
Dillan’s progression at MAAD McCANN, from intern to associate and then executive, has taught him to look beyond the publicity brief. Assignments involving Coca-Cola Beverages Uganda, Uganda Baati and Pride Bank strengthened his understanding of corporate communication and the business decisions behind it.
He sees continued reliance on PR for press releases, events and media coverage as a constraint on what practitioners can contribute. Understanding business objectives, stakeholder expectations and reputational risks is essential, but that knowledge needs an opportunity to inform organisational direction.
Kiberu supplies the historical context. In his account, economic liberalisation, privatisation, competition and institutional reform expanded the demand for trained communicators. Businesses had to explain changes to customers and employees, distinguish themselves from competitors and respond to questions about their responsibilities.
His own move from New Vision to British American Tobacco illustrates how journalism skills became valuable beyond the newsroom. Researching an issue, identifying the important information and explaining a complicated subject accurately were capabilities organisations increasingly needed.
He uses the political, economic, social, technological, environmental and legal dimensions of an organisation’s environment to explain why PR cannot be confined to issuing messages. Developments outside the communication office determine many of the questions arriving inside it.
Yet professionalisation has not always brought freedom to explain those developments. Kiberu observes that institutions can expand their communication functions while tightening control over what their staff may disclose. A spokesperson can hold a formal mandate to communicate and still lack the information or latitude needed to answer difficult questions credibly.
Nakasiita’s comparison across sectors shows how this operates in practice. Her work in Red Cross communications involves visibility, funding and donor confidence. Banking communication has different priorities, including customer acquisition, product visibility and institutional trust. Government communicators face public questions while navigating layers of approval.
“You have to wait for the minister. You have to wait for the commissioner,” she says.
These differences mean that speed cannot be assessed solely by how quickly an officer writes. Access to facts and authority to release them also determine the response. An organisation may purchase modern tools while preserving processes that prevent timely communication.
Kiberu therefore treats crisis preparedness as an organisational responsibility. He advocates arrangements through which relevant decision-makers can convene quickly, establish the facts and coordinate action. Serious incidents may involve several departments or require cooperation between institutions. Planning needs to establish who provides information, who can authorise a response and how those responsibilities connect.
Nakasiita’s advice addresses the public-facing part of that process. Where facts are still being gathered, a holding statement can acknowledge the matter, followed by a fuller explanation. When a journalist calls, a practitioner who lacks sufficient information should request time to verify it and then return with a response.
“Don’t create room for speculation,” she says.
The two approaches depend on each other. An officer needs a way to obtain the facts before offering a reliable statement. Preparedness therefore involves more than storing a template: it requires a working relationship between the communications team and the people responsible for the underlying issue.
Thin budgets make proof of value more urgent
Even where the role is understood, resources can limit what it delivers.
“You find somebody has a big PR plan, however, they are not able to execute it simply because they do not have budgets,” Nakasiita says.
The pressure reaches the daily work of content production, events, media engagement and sustained stakeholder relationships. Cheaper publishing does not remove those costs. Nor does it create the staff required to carry them out.
One person, she says, may be expected to handle digital content, storytelling, photography, video production, public relations, brand management and marketing. Such work can develop versatility, but the range of responsibilities also exposes a staffing problem.
“Like you find one person doing all the work, which is too much,” she says.
The result is an uncomfortable coexistence: practitioners competing for a limited number of jobs while communications departments have more work than their funded positions can comfortably absorb. In Nakasiita’s account, organisations may need additional talent without providing the budget to recruit it.
Kiberu’s assessment adds a useful qualification. He believes funding has increased over the profession’s development, even as communication budgets face competing organisational priorities. He also observes that the growing supply of trained practitioners has not been fully absorbed by salaried employment, leading some to establish agencies and consultancies.
Their observations point to uneven progress. Greater recognition and investment can coexist with inadequate resources in particular organisations, while a larger professional workforce still needs sustainable opportunities.
The case for funding consequently depends partly on how PR demonstrates value. Nakasiita connects reputation directly to the Red Cross’s ability to attract donors and partners.
“A good name is currency,” she says.
Kayiraba and Dillan both argue that demonstrating this contribution requires more than counting stories. Coverage and engagement can show that an activity reached an audience. They do not, by themselves, establish that it improved understanding, strengthened confidence or influenced behaviour.
“Media coverage, event attendance and digital engagement are important, but they do not necessarily indicate whether communication has strengthened reputation, improved stakeholder confidence or influenced behaviour,” Dillan says.
The distinction matters for the budget discussion. A communication plan needs a clear account of what the organisation hopes to change and whose response matters. Reporting activity without examining its effect can leave management unconvinced about why additional resources are necessary.
This does not make every reputational effect easy to measure. It does require practitioners to ask more precise questions about the purpose of their work. Donor confidence, customer understanding and community engagement involve different audiences and cannot be assessed simply through identical publicity targets.
For teams without promotion budgets, Nakasiita recommends a clear digital content plan and consistent engagement with the audience they already have, using paid promotion when resources permit. She warns against pursuing attention at the expense of professional discipline.
“But you don’t need to be unprofessional and go out of the context simply because you’re running after numbers,” she says.
The temptation is understandable in an environment where visible numbers are easy to report. But content that attracts attention while weakening credibility can undermine the very case PR is trying to make for its organisational value.
The resource question also reaches the profession’s institutions. Kiberu remembers James Mutabazi organising training, recruiting members and seeking sponsorship when resources were scarce. He recalls Mutabazi taking a taxi from Luzira to BAT’s offices when his unreliable BMW failed, determined to secure support for professional activities.
Kiberu also remembers the work of producing PRAU’s publication, The Trumpet, securing office space and sustaining contact with members. These recollections show that professional development depended on practical institution-building alongside individual expertise.
His later involvement as director of programmes under Juma Walusimbi, and as vice-president under Goretti Masadde, included work on the Excellence Awards, membership recruitment and professionalisation. He dates the inaugural awards to 2009 and views them as a way to recognise work and make practitioners’ contributions more visible.
That history connects to Nakasiita’s experience of struggling to explain the value of professional membership to an employer. The industry’s collective resources, like those of individual departments, depend on organisations recognising why training, standards and professional exchange matter to the work they receive.
Trust will test the profession and its employers
The strongest common thread across the four accounts is that reputation increasingly depends on conduct people can examine for themselves.
“We now live and operate in a trust economy,” Kiberu says.
He uses banking to illustrate the relationship: people entrust an institution with their money because they expect it to honour its commitments. The same principle reaches other businesses and public services. Customers assess whether a product performs as promised; citizens assess institutions through the services they experience.
Communication can explain performance, but its credibility depends on that experience. This is why Kiberu links the profession’s future to integrity, reliable information and demonstrable delivery.
He also describes scrutiny extending across borders. A multinational’s conduct in Uganda can raise questions for its headquarters, investors or customers elsewhere. Product sourcing, working conditions, local content and environmental practices can become communication issues because they are organisational issues first.
In his account, corporate responsibility has also become more demanding. A contribution selected at an executive’s discretion invites questions about whose needs it addresses and what difference it makes. Explaining an initiative requires understanding its relevance and results, rather than merely announcing that money was spent.
Kayiraba sees this demand for consistency intensifying. Organisations, she argues, will be judged by what they do, how they treat stakeholders and whether their behaviour matches their stated values. Technology changes the channels through which those judgements travel, while trust remains rooted in human relationships.
Dillan identifies a related professional pressure: the expectation to prioritise positive publicity over honest communication. He argues that practitioners must be prepared to give difficult advice, recognising that accountability and responses to criticism also shape reputation.
Kiberu similarly questions roles reduced to repeatedly publishing praise for a powerful person. A practitioner needs to understand the institution’s expectations and whether the position allows meaningful professional judgement. Seeking influence within management carries a responsibility to use it honestly.
Social media makes that responsibility more immediate. Nakasiita warns that deleting a post cannot guarantee its disappearance because someone may already have captured it. Content needs preparation and review before publication, with attention to brand guidelines, social media policies and the applicable rules governing platforms.
People with mobile phones can also record an incident before an organisation has prepared its account. An institution may believe a problem is contained while footage is already circulating. For Nakasiita, the appropriate response is openness grounded in verification, rather than allowing the race for attention to displace accuracy.
Kiberu adds that a leader’s remark, personal conduct or an allegation can quickly become a question for the employer. Some material may be fabricated; some may concern genuine conduct whose institutional relevance needs careful assessment. Establishing what happened must precede deciding how to respond.
Professional standards consequently matter alongside organisational access. Nakasiita wants a legal framework for public relations and communications practitioners that would define qualifications, strengthen ethical expectations and support accountability. She presents a proposed bill and stronger enforcement as intended reforms, rather than powers already operating across the industry.
Her call for clearer standards is accompanied by a practical question about how practitioners acquire the competence those standards require. She urges experienced professionals to accommodate interns and provide guidance as students move from theory into employment.
“The future of these offices we are holding today is for the young people,” she says.
Kayiraba wants training to encompass business strategy, digital communication, data, technology, crisis management, environmental, social and governance issues, and stakeholder engagement. She also sees a role for PRAU in continuing professional development, mentorship, knowledge exchange and keeping Ugandan practice connected to wider developments.
Dillan argues that mentorship should work in both directions. Experienced practitioners bring knowledge of leadership counsel, crises and stakeholder relations; younger colleagues bring perspectives on digital culture, technology and emerging audiences. He wants employers to include young professionals in planning, and more locally developed research and case studies to strengthen Uganda’s professional knowledge.
Kiberu’s advice extends that learning beyond the office and formal classroom. Practitioners should read widely, seek exposure and understand the connections between their work and developments in finance, regulation, technology, labour relations and environmental responsibility. Breadth helps them recognise when specialist knowledge is needed and ask useful questions of those who hold it.
“Don’t prepare only to be better communicators; prepare to be better thinkers,” Kayiraba says.
That challenge also falls on employers. A practitioner trained to anticipate problems cannot contribute fully if important decisions remain inaccessible. A carefully developed plan cannot deliver its intended results without resources. And a polished statement has limited power when the organisation is unwilling to address the conduct behind the criticism.
Fifty years into PRAU’s history, the tools available to Uganda’s communicators are more capable than those their predecessors carried. The next test is whether institutions give the people using them enough information, authority and support to do work worthy of public trust. The statement may take minutes to write. Earning confidence in it takes much more.
The writers are; Irene Nakasiita – PRAU President, Jimmy Kiberu – Former PRAU Vice President and Corporate Engagement Lead for Africa, Bayer Crop Science, Ambrose Dillan Masengere – PR, BTL and Events Executive, MAAD McCANN, Denise Kayiraba – Business Unit Head, Brainchild Burson