Ugandan obsession with titles: When respect becomes worship

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OPINION

By Rodrigo Nyinoburyo

In Uganda, authority is rarely just respected; it is ritualised, elevated, and sometimes worshipped.

Listen carefully at any public function. Before a single point is made, a speaker may spend two full minutes reciting titles: “Your Excellency, the President of the Republic of Uganda, General… Commander-in-Chief… Fountain of Honour…”. By the time the speech begins, the praise has already exceeded the substance. Yet all this could simply be: “Mr President.” So why do we do this?

A culture of kneeling before power. Our relationship with authority has deep historical roots. Pre-colonial kingdoms such as Buganda, Bunyoro-Kitara, and Ankole were built on highly centralised, sacred kingship. Kings were not merely political leaders; they were near-divine figures. Their titles reflected this: Empologoma (lion) in Buganda, Rukirabasaija (greater than all men) in Bunyoro/Tooro, Rubambansi (one who rules the whole World) in Ankole, Isebantu (the father of all people) in Busoga. The king was untouchable. Subjects knelt, prostrated, and spoke in praise poetry. Language itself became a tool of submission. Respect was not optional. It was survival.

From kings to politicians. Fast-forward to modern Uganda, and the kingdoms have somewhat faded in political power, but the psychology remains. We have transferred the same rituals of reverence from kings to elected officials. Today, addressing a member of parliament without the title “Honourable” is akin to sacrilege! Even a councillor at the subcounty/parish is “Honourable.” The president is surrounded by a fortress of titles. In the presence of the president, introductions sometimes sound less like civic protocol and more like royal praise sessions. It is as if removing one title would diminish their authority- or worse, invite punishment.

This tendency is not limited to politics alone; it seeps into civic and professional spaces. Our public ceremonies sound like praise sessions. Compared with simpler democracies, in the United States, formality exists, but it is restrained. The president is simply “Mr President.” Senators are “Senator Smith.” Representatives are “Representative Jones.” No endless honorific chains. No ceremonial inflation. The message is subtle but powerful; leaders are public servants, not monarchs. Titles do not create authority; accountability does.

Respect for leaders is healthy, but worshipping them is dangerous. When citizens feel compelled to exaggerate titles, criticism becomes disrespect, accountability becomes taboo, leaders become untouchable, and institutions weaken. Language shapes power. When we speak as if leaders are superior beings, we start to believe it. And once leaders are seen as above ordinary citizens, democracy quietly erodes.

Part of our obsession is cultural politeness, part is fear, and part is inherited hierarchy. But there is also opportunism. Long introductions are often strategic flattery- a performance meant to gain favour, contracts, or protection. Titles become currency; the more praise you offer, the closer you hope to sit to power.

Time to rethink our civic language; Perhaps maturity as a democracy means simplifying how we speak about leaders. Not disrespectfully, not rudely, but normally. “Mr President.” “Madam Minister.” “Councillor.” Clear, sufficient and respectful. In a republic, leaders are not kings; they are employees of the people, and employees do not need worship-they need oversight.

Maybe the real question is not why we love titles. Maybe it is; are we citizens or subjects? Until we answer that honestly, we may keep kneeling, even when no throne exists.

The writer is a medical doctor and public health expert