YVONNE'S TAKE: Common Brits, learn!

Not over missing billions.

Not over collapsed systems.

Not over vanishing public funds.

No.

Over judgment.

Following the Peter Mandelson-Epstein saga, serious questions are being asked about whether Prime Minister Keir Starmer exercised, wait for it, poor judgment.

The phrase has dominated British headlines. Commentators are dissecting it. Panels are debating it. An adviser reportedly stepped down for recommending Mandelson for the role of US ambassador.

Resigned.

For recommending someone.

Imagine that.

In Britain, they are asking whether leadership instincts matter, whether discernment matters, whether character signals matter.

How exhausting.

How delicate.

How terribly first world.

Meanwhile, in Kenya, perspective.

Here, under the current administration, we do not lose sleep over such soft matters as poor judgment. We operate at scale.

Take the Ksh.11 billion SHA controversy. Questions were raised, procurement concerns flagged, public confusion evident.

The response? Denial.

Nothing is wrong. Nothing to see here. Move along. There is no scandal. Everything is working perfectly.

Poor judgment?

Please. That is British vocabulary.

Consider many of the government policies challenged in the courts, court suspensions, verdicts declaring them unconstitutional, lack of public participation, yet government insistence persists. Policy by legal tug-of-war.

Poor judgment?

Or bold experimentation on 50 million citizens?

Cabinet communication gymnastics follow. One minister announces, another contradicts, a third clarifies. A “whole of government approach.” The statement is “misinterpreted.” Figures are quoted, then corrected. Global statements are walked back.

Poor judgment?

Or strategic ambiguity?

But the British are so adorable. There, an adviser resigns because a recommendation may reflect poorly on leadership judgment.

Here, billions can hang in question, policies can wobble mid-implementation, and the loudest outrage is directed not at the decision, but at those who question it.

The British whisper, “Judgment matters.”

We respond, “Why are you being negative?”

They worry about optics.

We manage magnitude.

Honestly, someone should reassure Keir Starmer.

Sir, come to Kenya.

Here, poor judgment is not a headline. It is not a resignation letter. It is not a parliamentary inquiry.

It is a regular Tuesday or Friday.

You can appoint, fire, reappoint, redeploy, deny, clarify, unclarify, announce billions, and re-announce billions.

And if anyone raises an eyebrow, simply accuse them of pessimism.

Singapore?

That disciplined miracle often referenced in speeches, the land of ruthless accountability, the place where public office demands precision and corruption is confronted, not explained away.

And we ask whether we will ever get there.

With our relationship to judgment?

With our instinct to deny before we investigate?

With our comfort with confusion?

Perhaps the British are not soft.

Perhaps they understand something fundamental.

Before the billions disappear, before the systems collapse, there is a quieter warning sign.

Judgment.

The kind exercised before you sign.

Before you appoint.

Before you announce.

Before you spend.

The kind that builds Singapore.

But what do they know?

They are only worried about poor judgment.

We are operating at Ksh.11 billion.