When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.
During the height of Soviet Russia central planning, government imposed production quotas across various industries, such as the nail factories. They were given strict production targets where their effectiveness was measured by the number of nails they produced to meet their assigned quotas under the Five-Year Plan. The metric to gauge the success of production was solely on the quantity of nails produced.
The result? Factories, eager to meet or exceed these targets began manufacturing small, thin nails in vast quantities, prioritising quantity over utility. This fulfilled the production quota but were practically useless for their real construction purpose.
When the Soviet planners realised this flaw, they adjusted the metric. They shifted from quantity to weight. Factories effectiveness was now measured by the total weight of nails they produced. This led to the production of just a few, overly large nails which were equally useless, but still in line with the central planners required weight-based metrics.
In both cases, the real goal of producing functional, useful nails was completely forgotten. By turning the measure into a rigid goal, the system created perverse incentives that undermined the broader purpose.
This perfectly illustrates the cautionary tale about the dangers of focusing too narrowly on surface-level metrics, losing sight of the broader objectives. This is the Goodhart’s law which states that when a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.
Charles Goodhart was a British economist known for formulating the Goodhart’s Law which became a key principle in economics and other disciplines that rely on performance metrics. He coined this law after observing how governments target specific economic indicators, and once these indicators became explicit policy targets, economic agents began altering their behaviours in ways that undermined the usefulness of the measure often leading to unintended consequences.
When leaders chase metrics, without regard for the real-world outcomes that they are supposed to reflect, they risk creating inefficient, wasteful systems that fail to deliver what their users actually need.
There is no doubt that activism plays a critical role in holding governments accountable. And in the recent past, this has been exemplary demonstrated in Kenya through the voice of Gen Z, particularly one Mr. Morara Kebaso. His voice has undoubtedly been instrumental in shining a light on the troubling number of stalled and unexecuted public projects, but where huge sums of taxpayers money have allegedly been expended.
By exposing these failures, his activism has struck a chord with many disillusioned Kenyans by rightly calling attention to them. His efforts have raised legitimate concerns about corruption, mismanagement, and the misuse of public funds.
However, in the context of Goodhart’s Law, we must ask: is simply exposing them enough? How do we move the needle beyond pointing them out to achieving systemic, sustainable change?
You see, his activism so far has largely centred on the metric of stalled or unexecuted public projects. Eo Ipso, it is a useful measure of government’s inefficiency and possibly corruption. Yet, as Goodhart’s Law cautions, when a specific measure, in this case the number of stalled or unexecuted public projects, becomes the primary target, it risks losing its effectiveness as a tool for reform.
The deeper, systemic issues that lead to these failures, such as unrealistic political manifestos, weak institutions, gullible electorate, inadequate oversight, and mtu wetu syndrome, become overshadowed by the sheer focus on the visible symptoms of those problems. This could easily lead to becoming a numbers game, where the objective shifts to counting the failures rather than addressing their root causes.
Unfinished projects are not infinite. Exposing them will eventually reach its limits. While they are the most visible manifestation of government failure, they are merely symptoms of deeper systemic problems. And worse still, once they have all been publicised, what next? There is no clear path for moving this forward to the desired reforms.
One of the ways Mr. Morara’s activism could move this needle further is to unmask who the contractors are, how they were selected, how funds were expended and to where they were diverted, who the profiteers are, and where the breakdown in accountability occurs. In simple terms, follow the money. This would push for systemic reforms in procurement, governance, and oversight to strengthen accountability.
This type of activism also risks perpetuating cynicism and public despair. When the public is only fed on a steady stream of failures, it only reinforces their perception that government is inherently dysfunctional and corrupt, and nothing can be done to change the system. There is the risk of shifting public focus away from the possibility of change towards resignation and hopelessness.
Perhaps Morara could occasionally pivot towards highlighting some success stories of reforms or completed projects as examples of what can be achieved through proper governance. This shift would help balance the narrative between critique and constructive engagement. Only then can we begin to move from endless critique to real transformative change.
The end game should not be to tally up the failures. It should be to ensure that these failures are not repeated. By broadening the focus to systemic reforms and community oversight, his activism could avoid the pitfalls of Goodhart’s Law and help to create a more accountable, transparent, and functional national and county governments.
To do so, he could collaborate with policy think tanks, legal experts, and governance reformers to push the conversation beyond what is wrong, to how it can be systemically fixed. And forming a political party is not one of the solutions. It is a fast track towards what Einstein called insanity.
Finally, my unsolicited advice is to Morara. Flattery is like chewing gum. It is meant to be enjoyed for a short while, not swallowed. You have gained newfound fame as a bold activist. You have become a public figure, garnered praise and attention for your courage in taking on the political elite. This spotlight can be both a powerful tool, but also a devastating distraction. While accolades and public adoration may be gratifying, they are as fleeting as the morning dew. Like chewing gum, they lose flavour quickly. Flee from the allure of public praise.
It’s not the groundbreaking ceremony that matters, but the ribbon-cutting at the finish line - Anonymous
