By Alexander Luyima

As Premier Danielle Smith fans the flames of Alberta separatism with talk of a potential referendum in 2026, Indigenous leaders across the province are sounding a fierce alarm—warning that any path toward separation that excludes First Nations voices is not only unconstitutional but unthinkable.

> “We are not going anywhere,” said Chief Allan Adam of the Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation in a recent interview. “This is treaty land. If Alberta wants to separate, they better be prepared to sit down with every nation whose land they’re walking on.”

Smith has floated the idea of Alberta becoming independent as part of her broader campaign against federal overreach and what she calls Ottawa’s “interference” in provincial affairs, particularly around energy development and environmental regulation. But Indigenous communities, whose ancestral lands make up the entire province, are saying: not so fast.

The Legal and Moral Wall

Canada is a nation built on treaties—formal agreements between the Crown and Indigenous peoples. Alberta, in its entirety, falls under various numbered treaties, primarily Treaties 6, 7, and 8. Any attempt to separate from Canada without consulting the First Nations who signed these treaties would likely trigger a major constitutional and legal battle.

> “You can’t break away from Canada without also addressing the treaties that bind you to Indigenous nations,” says University of Calgary law professor Dr. Naiomi Metallic. “The courts have been increasingly clear: Indigenous self-determination is not optional—it’s constitutional.”

This legal precedent was strengthened in 2016 when Canada officially adopted the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP), which enshrines Indigenous communities’ right to self-determination, including over land and resources.

Energy Development Under Threat

Several Indigenous nations have already warned that if Alberta continues to push separation without consultation, they will consider halting all energy development and exploration on their lands. Given that a significant portion of Alberta’s oil sands infrastructure lies on or near treaty land, this is no empty threat.

> “If we shut down energy corridors on our land, Alberta’s economy crashes—period,” said Chief Billy-Joe Laboucan of the Lubicon Lake Band. “This is not just a political issue. It’s an economic earthquake waiting to happen.”

Public Opinion: Divided, But Cautious

A recent Abacus Data poll shows that only 27% of Albertans support full separation, with the majority preferring greater autonomy within the Canadian federation. Nationally, 68% of Canadians say they oppose Alberta separating, and many see the move as unrealistic and dangerous.

> “We’ve been down this road before with Quebec, and it nearly tore the country apart,” notes political commentator Chantal Hébert. “The difference now is that Indigenous voices are front and center—and they cannot be ignored.”

The Origin of the Separation Stir

The Alberta Sovereignty Within a United Canada Act—passed by the Smith government in late 2022—was the first major signal that separation talk was more than bluster. The Act allows the province to ignore federal laws it deems harmful. Critics called it a constitutional crisis in the making. Supporters framed it as standing up for Alberta.

But since then, Premier Smith has ramped up rhetoric, often blaming Ottawa for everything from inflation to energy grid instability. Some analysts believe the separation card is political posturing ahead of the 2027 provincial election. But for Indigenous communities, it’s more than politics—it’s existential.

Can Alberta Separate Without Indigenous Consent?

The short answer: likely not. Any serious attempt to break from Canada would require a constitutional process involving negotiation with multiple stakeholders, including Indigenous nations.

> “Treaties were signed with the Crown, not the province of Alberta,” explains Indigenous governance expert Dr. Hayden King. “If Alberta wants out, then First Nations have the same right to assert sovereignty—over the very land Alberta claims.”

Conclusion

Danielle Smith may have sparked a conversation around Alberta’s place in Canada, but in doing so, she’s ignited a fire among Indigenous leaders that won’t be easily extinguished. In treaty territory, sovereignty is not a one-way street—and Indigenous nations are reminding everyone they are not just stakeholders. They are rights holders.

> “If you have a problem with First Nations,” Chief Adam concluded, “you’re the one who can leave. We were here first—and we’re not going anywhere.”

By Alexander Luyima

Kampala, Uganda — When General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, son of President Yoweri Museveni and commander of Uganda’s armed forces, posted images of a battered Eddie Mutwe on social media, he did more than admit to an abduction—he flaunted it. The photos, showing Mutwe’s swollen feet, bruised body, and hollowed expression, were not just evidence of detention but of calculated torture. Then came the taunts: Do you want video proof?

This is not an isolated case. It is the latest in a pattern of state-sanctioned terror that has seen critics, activists, and ordinary citizens disappear into unmarked vehicles, only to resurface—if they resurface at all—broken and traumatized.

A Cycle of Impunity

Mutwe’s ordeal mirrors that of others before him—Kakwenza Rukirabashaija, the satirical writer whose feet were mutilated; the still-missing victims of the infamous Panda Gari abductions; and countless others whose names never make headlines.

When opposition leader Robert Kyagulanyi (Bobi Wine) visited Mutwe in prison, he recounted the horror:

“They beat him for not understanding their language. They spat in his face. They found joy in his pain.”

Mutwe’s feet, like Kakwenza’s, were a primary target—swollen beyond recognition. “He said it felt like elephantiasis,” Kyagulanyi revealed. “He still can’t walk properly. He was also injected with unknown substances three times. He doesn’t know what they did to his body.”

After each torture session, Mutwe was forced to perform frog jumps and press-ups while blindfolded and shackled. “The question was always the same: ‘Who are you to challenge Museveni?’”

When Mutwe saw his family in prison, he broke down. “He cried. In front of his wife, his mother, his baby—he couldn’t finish telling us everything,” Kyagulanyi said. “He says every time he closes his eyes, he sees them coming for him again. He hasn’t slept.”

A Government That Brags About Its Crimes

The most chilling aspect of Mutwe’s case is not just the brutality—it is the state’s shamelessness. Security forces no longer bother with denials. Instead, they dare the public to challenge them.

“When a regime proudly displays its crimes, it means it no longer fears consequences,” says Dr. Livingstone Sewanyana, a human rights lawyer and executive director of the Foundation for Human Rights Initiative (FHRI). “This is the hallmark of absolute impunity.”

The international community has largely remained silent. Western allies, including the U.S. and UK, continue to provide military and financial support to Uganda despite its deteriorating human rights record.

“Silence is complicity,” argues political analyst Nicholas Opiyo. “If foreign governments continue to treat Uganda as a strategic partner while ignoring its atrocities, they become enablers of this brutality.”

Where Does This Leave Ugandans?

For ordinary citizens, the message is clear: No one is safe. Abductions are no longer reserved for high-profile activists—they can happen to anyone, anytime.

“Eddie should be in a hospital, not in a cell,” Kyagulanyi insists. “This is political persecution. What happened to him is not just torture. It is a crime against humanity. And those responsible must be held accountable.”

But accountability remains elusive. The unresolved torture of Dr. Kizza Besigye, the enforced disappearances of opposition supporters, and the open mockery of victims suggest a regime that believes itself untouchable.

The Road Ahead

Uganda stands at a crossroads. With a ruling elite that openly revels in its brutality, the social contract is broken. The question is no longer if more atrocities will occur, but how much longer the world will look away.

As Sewanyana warns: “A government that tortures its own people and boasts about it is a government that has lost all legitimacy. History does not look kindly on such regimes.”

For now, Eddie Mutwe’s shattered body is a testament to Uganda’s descent—and a grim preview of what may lie ahead.

Alexander Luyima is an investigative journalist and human rights advocate focusing on governance and security in East Africa.

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” — Martin Luther King Jr.

By Amiri Wabusimba. In the heart of East Africa, Uganda’s political climate has once again drawn attention this time, not for progressive reform, but for the troubling convergence of party dominance and state governance. As the country navigates its path toward the 2026 general elections, a disconcerting precedent was set when President Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, who also serves as the National Chairman of the National Resistance Movement (NRM), suspended Cabinet operations to allow ministers to partake in the party’s internal electoral processes. Concurrently, Uganda’s Parliament under the leadership of a speaker who is also a member of the ruling party paused its sessions, placing national legislative activity on hold in deference to the NRM’s primaries. This development, though perhaps routine in the eyes of domestic power brokers, signals a more profound democratic dilemma: can the internal operations of a ruling party justifiably override the sovereign functions of the state in a constitutional multiparty system?

Uganda is constitutionally recognized as a multiparty democracy, following reforms that were institutionalized after the 2005 referendum. Yet, episodes like this reflect a systemic erosion of democratic norms and institutional separation. When party activities dictate the pace and function of state organs, it becomes evident that party supremacy has begun to blur, if not fully usurp, the boundaries meant to preserve constitutionalism. The executive and legislative branches are no longer operating independently but are increasingly being seen as extensions of the NRM apparatus. This conflation endangers institutional neutrality and damages the credibility of public service, especially in the eyes of citizens who do not subscribe to the ruling party’s ideology.

Comparative democracies offer instructive frameworks on how to manage this divide responsibly. Germany’s Christian Democratic Union (CDU), for instance, although frequently at the helm of government, maintains a rigid separation between its internal affairs and federal governance. Chancellor-led cabinets proceed uninterrupted, even during party congresses or leadership contests. Similarly, in the United Kingdom, transitions within the Conservative Party such as the 2022 leadership race between Rishi Sunak and Liz Truss did not disrupt parliamentary proceedings or ministerial responsibilities. The state’s institutional machinery remained intact and functional. In South Korea, a model of democratic resilience in Asia, laws and norms require public officials who wish to take up or participate actively in party roles to resign from government office, thereby maintaining ethical clarity and avoiding conflict of interest (Choe, 2021).

Uganda’s current trajectory, however, reveals a deeper vulnerability in its democratic architecture: a lack of regulatory and normative safeguards to prevent the merger of party and state. These poses risk not just to institutional autonomy but also to the spirit of fair competition in a pluralistic system. When Cabinet and Parliament both halt operations in alignment with the ruling party’s schedule, it renders the state apparatus an accomplice in partisan enterprise. This marginalizes opposition voices and alienates the broader citizenry from the democratic process.

To counter this creeping encroachment, it is imperative that Uganda enacts legislation establishing a firm firewall between public office and political party leadership. Officials holding ministerial or other executive functions must be disallowed from occupying influential posts within their respective parties during their tenure. Such a reform would not be novel; it reflects practices already embraced in many advanced democracies. For example, in Sweden, the neutrality of civil servants is enshrined in law, and ministers cannot simultaneously engage in party mobilisation or primaries without jeopardising their posts (Pierre, 2004).

Moreover, Uganda’s Parliament must adopt internal regulations that prohibit the suspension of sittings on account of any political party’s internal calendar. This is not merely a procedural issue—it is a fundamental democratic safeguard. When the legislative agenda becomes subservient to party events, the very notion of representative democracy is compromised. Constituencies—particularly those represented by opposition lawmakers—are effectively silenced, excluded from the governance process due to decisions rooted in partisan prioritisation.

This conflation of party and state responsibilities is emblematic of what scholars’ term “party-statism” a condition where the ruling party colonises the instruments of governance, leading to a weakened multiparty system (Levitsky & Way, 2010). The consequences are far-reaching. Not only is the impartiality of institutions jeopardised, but the international credibility of Uganda’s democratic commitments also suffers. Development partners, regional observers, and global governance indices increasingly scrutinise such regressions. Uganda risks finding itself classified not as a functioning democracy, but as a dominant-party system, where electoral processes exist in form but not in substance.

The responsibility for redress does not rest solely on the shoulders of the government. The Electoral Commission must assert its independence and enforce regulations that ensure equal participation without state bias. Civil society organizations should amplify their monitoring and advocacy roles, while the media must maintain editorial independence in scrutinising both ruling and opposition parties without fear or favour. Furthermore, Uganda’s international partners including the African Union, European Union, and United Nations—must adopt a proactive stance in promoting institutional reforms that reinforce democratic norms.

The fate of Uganda’s democracy hinges on its willingness to reaffirm the supremacy of its Constitution over the convenience of political survival. The idea that a ruling party’s internal processes can temporarily paralyse the functioning of the state apparatus is antithetical to democratic ideals. It not only undermines governance but also breeds cynicism among citizens who see the political system as skewed and exclusionary.

As Uganda approaches the 2026 general elections, it must choose between the deepening of democratic practice or the entrenchment of party hegemony. A true multiparty democracy does not merely permit opposition; it protects it. It does not just allow institutions to exist it empowers them to function independently and impartially. The world is watching, not only to witness the outcome of elections but to assess whether Uganda remains committed to the principles upon which genuine democracy is built: constitutionalism, institutional autonomy, accountability, and respect for the diverse voices of its people.

Amiri Wabusimba is a communication specialist, Diplomatic & political Analyst, International Relations Scholar, Journalist, and Human Right activist. Tel: +56775103895 email: Wabusimbaa@gmail.com