President William Ruto has often declared that Kenya can and must reach first-world status within our lifetime. He has said we have the ideas, the people, and the will to get there if we do the right things together. As I write from Japan, where I have spent the past half month and where I first arrived thirty-five years ago, I have once again experienced what first world truly means. It is not skyscrapers; it is the invisible discipline, dignity, and justice woven into daily life.
This reflection focuses on a small Japanese book called ‘A Life of Yozan’. My business partner and friend, Mamoru Kiptoo, introduced it to me years ago and has built his growing conglomerate based on Yozan’s discipline, humility, and service. Watching his success showed me that Yozan’s principles are not just historical ideas; they are alive, practical, and transformative.
Uesugi Yozan, who lived from 1751 to 1822, became the lord of Yonezawa in 1767 at just seventeen years old. He inherited one of Japan’s poorest and most heavily indebted regions. By the end of his life, that same territory had become a national example of disciplined prosperity. His methods deserve the attention of every leader in Kenya today, from the State House to our forty-seven counties.
Two centuries later, when a reporter asked President John F.. Kennedy which Japanese politician he respected the most, he answered Uesugi Yozan. A national poll in 2007 even ranked Yozan as Japan’s top ideal leader. The world studies him because he demonstrated that moral leadership can mend a broken society.
Yozan started with personal surrender. When taking office, he promised to be a father and mother to his people and to punish himself before punishing anyone else. He reduced his household budget by four-fifths, dismissed dozens of servants, wore simple cotton instead of silk, and ate modest food so that his bankrupt domain could pay off its debts. Only then did he ask others to sacrifice. This laid the foundation of trust.
If Kenya aims for first-world status, the first reform must also be personal. Citizens will believe in sacrifice only when leaders demonstrate it clearly through budgets, procurement, appointments, and even lifestyle choices. A nation cannot leap into the future while its leadership lives in a different world from the people.
Second, Yozan reestablished justice. He eliminated hereditary privilege, appointed honest officials, and designed a strict yet compassionate police system that treated everyone equally. Our deepest wound is unjust selective justice. When minor offenders are punished while major thieves negotiate with those in power, national morale suffers. A first-world Kenya requires the law to protect every citizen equally.
Third, Yozan transformed every village into a hub of productivity. He turned idle samurai into farmers, introduced new crops and industries, invested in irrigation tunnels that were engineering marvels of their time, and insisted that there would be no waste areas in his territory. Once priorities and discipline were clear, funding came naturally. That is why I argue that money is the simplest part. With firm rules, the Central Bank and partners can ring-fence long-term resources for projects that genuinely increase productivity.
This embodies the spirit of Green Africa Villages and the ideas I shared in Green for Life, a vision of productive households building prosperity from the grassroots, just as Yonezawa once did. Yozan demonstrated that character is a nation’s most essential infrastructure. Through humility, duty, and honest work, he restored a broken society. Kenya must also return to educating conscience. A Life of Yozan is a small book that has inspired presidents and continues to guide leaders like Mamoru Kiproo. I urge every leader to read it along with Green for Life and face a simple truth: a first-world Kenya will only happen through the sacrifices we choose to make. Think Green, Act Green.
