Why govt is training its communicators to tell 60-second video stories

In a country where government statements often arrive late, shrouded in formality and stripped of emotion, a quiet shift is beginning to take root.

At a repurposed ICT hub in Nakawa, more than 200 government communication officers gathered not just to learn software tools or scripting techniques, but to relearn the purpose of their work: to be heard, understood and trusted in real time.

The four-day training program, led by Uganda’s ministry of ICT and National Guidance in partnership with MultiChoice Uganda and Brainchild Burson, marks a new chapter in how the state communicates with its people.

It’s part of a growing recognition that public trust is no longer earned through titles or press conferences, but through timely, human-centered storytelling—often delivered in 60-second videos, or a well-crafted tweet.

“We must move from talking at people to talking with them,” said one lead facilitator.

“Videos can inspire; they can humanize, and they can create impact in ways traditional press releases can’t.”

The urgency is real. Misinformation moves fast in Uganda, fueled by WhatsApp groups and viral Facebook posts. Meanwhile, public skepticism toward official channels continues to grow, especially among younger citizens.

In this context, the government’s move to retrain its communicators is as much about survival as it is about service. It’s a strategic attempt to bridge the widening gap between institutions and the people they serve. More than a skills workshop, the program signaled a cultural shift—one that places authenticity above perfection, responsiveness above hierarchy, and connection above command.

As the officers ran mock crisis drills and learned the power of emotionally intelligent messaging, the underlying question lingered: can a govern- ment that has long spoken down to its citizens learn, finally, to speak with them?

FROM CRISIS TO CONNECTION

The sessions were far from theoretical. Officers were thrust into timed simulations—mock crises that had to be managed within 20 minutes. One scenario asked participants to navigate a crisis at a beverage factory, where an attempt to reward workers with two beers each sparked an unexpected riot.

“The workers felt insulted,” explained Hassan Saleh, who introduced the exercise.

“They believed the company must be truly broke to offer only two beers. A well-meaning gesture turned into chaos—all because of poor communication.”

The lesson was clear: even small missteps in messaging can trigger large-scale fallout.

“Crisis communication is about timing, tone and trust,” a trainer said. “It’s no longer reactive—it’s about readiness.”

This was echoed throughout the week, especially as officers grappled with the growing challenges of social media. With TikTok, WhatsApp, and YouTube dominating the digital scene—boasting millions of Ugandan users—the message was clear: go where the people are.

“Government has been too quiet—or too formal—on the platforms where citizens actually spend their time,” said one facilitator. “That needs to change.”

A SHIFT IN POWER AND PRACTICE

But beyond platforms and technology, the program emphasized people. Participants were encouraged to tell human stories from the ground. One standout case involved a government officer who recorded a video in his local dialect, explaining a complex policy in plain terms.

The video went viral—not because it was slick, but because it was real. “The public doesn’t want perfection,” a trainer explained. “They want authenticity.”

The collaboration with MultiChoice Uganda, formalized through a May 2024 memorandum of understanding, was seen as key to injecting new energy and industry knowledge into government communication.

Dr Aminah Zawedde, permanent secretary at the ministry of ICT, said discussions were already underway to extend the partnership into a third year. She also had a message for Uganda’s youth, especially Gen Z: “We’re ready to bring you in. There’s space for you in this transformation, and we need your voice, your skills and your creativity.”

At the heart of the initiative lies a deeper goal: rebuilding public trust. Uganda’s government communicators are being recast not just as spokespeople, but as nation-builders. By the end of the week, talk had shifted from hashtags and editing apps to legacy and leadership.

“Crisis communication is no longer about damage control. It’s about being ready to lead,” said facilitator Wafula.

“The right person, with the right message, at the right time, can preserve national trust.”

The broader aim is to link communication directly to national development. As Uganda implements its latest National Development Plan (NDP IV), officials are under pressure to show results, deliver services and respond quickly when things go wrong.

“We can’t govern in silence,” said Moses Watasa, commissioner for Information Dissemination.

“We need to actively shape narratives, tell untold stories, and make our message relatable.” The ministry has promised to roll out similar training across local governments and town councils, ensuring the momentum reaches every corner of the country.

Participants were urged to be champions of transparency and agents of accountability—more than just messengers.

THE HIGH STAKES OF SILENCE

The stakes are clear. In a region where misinformation has fueled violence, distrust and division, Uganda’s effort to modernize its public sector communications is not just timely—it’s necessary.

One of the week’s most quoted reflections came from Hassan Saleh, who reminded the group: “There is no greater agony than living with an untold story.”

Dr. Aminah, closing the week with a philosophical note, told participants, “A man can’t step into the same river twice, because it’s not the same river, and he’s not the same man.” Her point landed: in the world of government communication, change is constant—and adaptation is survival.

For Uganda, this training marks more than just a shift in public relations. It’s a step towards building a more open, responsive and people-centered government—one tweet, one video and one honest story at a time.

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