Alexander Luyima

Africa Focus

The Institutional Struggle for Democracy and Equal Justice in Uganda » The Hoima Post –

Alexander Luyima 6 hours ago

By Alexander Luyima, GDipICL | The Hoima Post

In Uganda, the struggle for political freedom is not fought only at rallies, in the streets, or at the ballot box. Sometimes, it unfolds in government offices, before public officials, and through legal procedures that are supposed to protect every citizen equally.

Bobi Wine’s political journey illustrates the difficult challenge of pursuing democratic change within a system whose institutions critics accuse of serving the interests of those in power.

In 2020, as Uganda prepared for a decisive electoral contest, Bobi Wine and the National Unity Platform sought to establish their political movement within the country’s legal framework. The broader struggle surrounding opposition politics raised a fundamental question: What happens when citizens attempt to exercise their legal rights in a system where public institutions are perceived to operate under political pressure?

The issue goes beyond the registration of a political party. It touches the very foundation of constitutional democracy.

When the Law Becomes a Political Battleground

Imagine attempting to build a political movement while facing allegations of intimidation, surveillance, threats, and administrative obstruction. Imagine believing that you have followed the required procedures, only to encounter delays and obstacles that leave you questioning whether the system is working impartially.

For an opposition leader, the challenge is not merely to win public support. It is also to navigate institutions that may determine whether that support can be translated into meaningful political participation.

This is where Bobi Wine’s political struggle takes on a deeper significance.

A dictatorship does not always reveal itself through force alone. It can also reveal itself through the selective application of the law, the intimidation of public officials, and the obstruction of legitimate political competition.

When administrative procedures are deliberately manipulated to disadvantage political opponents, the consequences extend far beyond the individuals involved. Citizens lose confidence in public institutions, political participation becomes increasingly risky, and the promise of equal treatment under the law begins to lose its meaning.

These are serious concerns in any country that claims to uphold democratic principles.

The Courage to Challenge Power Through the Law

Bobi Wine’s decision to pursue political change through an organised political party demonstrates an important principle. The existence of an unjust system does not automatically eliminate the value of using legal and constitutional channels to challenge it.

Indeed, insisting that public institutions follow their own rules can expose contradictions between a government’s democratic promises and the experiences of those seeking to hold it accountable.

However, legal recognition alone does not guarantee a level playing field. A political party may exist formally while still facing practical barriers to organising, campaigning, mobilising supporters, or participating freely in public life.

This is why the rule of law must mean more than the existence of statutes, regulations, and government offices. It must also mean that those laws are applied fairly, that officials can perform their duties without political interference, and that citizens can exercise their rights without fear of retaliation.

The true test of a democracy is not how freely the ruling party operates. It is how fairly the system treats those who challenge its hold on power.

Uganda’s Democratic Crisis Is Bigger Than One Politician

It would be a mistake to reduce Uganda’s political struggle to a personal contest between Bobi Wine and President Yoweri Museveni. Personalities may dominate political headlines, but the deeper issue concerns the institutions that determine how power is acquired, exercised, challenged, and transferred.

An independent judiciary, a professional public service, impartial electoral administration, and accountable security agencies are essential to a functioning democracy. Without them, even the most carefully written constitutional guarantees risk becoming promises that exist on paper but are difficult to enforce in practice.

Uganda’s opposition movement therefore faces a challenge that extends beyond winning elections. It must also confront the structural conditions that can undermine political competition and weaken public confidence in the electoral process.

For ordinary Ugandans, these questions have practical consequences. They affect whether citizens can support their preferred candidates without intimidation, whether political parties can organise freely, whether election results command public confidence, and whether peaceful political change remains a realistic possibility.

The issue is not whether Bobi Wine or any other opposition leader should be above the law. No politician should be. The issue is whether the law applies equally to everyone, including those who hold the highest offices in the country.

When Institutions Serve Power Instead of the People

A government cannot credibly claim to uphold the rule of law if the public believes that access to justice depends on political loyalty or that institutions are more responsive to the interests of the powerful than to the rights of ordinary citizens.

Such a perception is dangerous because public trust is one of the foundations of political stability. When citizens lose faith in institutions, even legitimate government decisions can become difficult to defend.

The solution is not to abandon the law. It is to insist on its impartial enforcement, strengthen institutional independence, protect fundamental rights, and ensure that public officials remain accountable to the Constitution rather than to individual political interests.

Bobi Wine’s legal and political struggle brings this question into sharp focus. It challenges Ugandans to consider whether the country’s institutions are sufficiently independent to protect political competition, even when that competition threatens those who have governed for decades.

The answer matters not only to the opposition but also to Uganda’s future.

The Final Question: Who Does the Law Protect?

Ultimately, democracy cannot survive on elections alone. It requires institutions that respect constitutional limits, protect political freedoms, and allow citizens to challenge those in power without fear.

Bobi Wine’s struggle represents a broader question facing Uganda: Can a citizen challenge a powerful political establishment and still expect the institutions of the state to treat that citizen fairly?

If the answer depends on who holds power, then the problem is far greater than any individual political dispute.

The law must be more than an instrument for controlling citizens. It must be a safeguard against the abuse of power. Public institutions must serve the nation, not a political establishment. And democracy must provide a genuine path for peaceful change, not merely the appearance of political choice.

When the pursuit of justice becomes a struggle against the very institutions meant to deliver it, the crisis is no longer simply political. It is a crisis of the rule of law itself.

For Uganda, the ultimate measure of democratic progress will not be whether one leader defeats another. It will be whether the country builds a system in which no leader is above the law, no citizen is denied equal protection because of political belief, and no institution is beyond public accountability.

That is the struggle that matters, and that is the standard by which Uganda’s democracy must ultimately be judged.

Alexander Luyima, GDipICL
The Hoima Post

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Examining Uganda’s Shifting Judicial Standards in Electoral Petitions) » The Hoima Post –

Alexander Luyima 6 hours ago

By Alexander Luyima, GDipICL | The Hoima Post

When a court overturns one election because electoral irregularities are considered substantial, then upholds another despite acknowledging serious irregularities in the electoral process, the public is entitled to ask a difficult question: Is the law being applied consistently, and can the difference in judicial reasoning be convincingly explained?

That question now confronts Uganda’s electoral justice system following two decisions by High Court Judge Justice Bernard Namanya.

In May 2025, in Nambi Faridah Kigongo v Luyimbazi Elias Nalukoola and Electoral Commission, the judge annulled the election of Elias Nalukoola as Kawempe Division North Member of Parliament, citing the disenfranchisement of 16,640 registered voters across 14 polling stations and the candidate’s prohibited campaigning on polling day.

On October 21, 2026, in Nalubowa Rose v Nameere Justine and Others, the same judge dismissed Rose Nalubowa’s petition challenging a court ordered recount that had declared Justine Nameere the winner of the Masaka City Woman MP contest.

The judge acknowledged that the recount had been conducted in violation of electoral law and that the integrity of several electoral materials had been compromised. Nevertheless, he concluded that the petitioner had failed to prove that the irregularities substantially affected the election result.

Both judgments raise legitimate questions about electoral compliance. The critical issue is whether the judge applied a consistent legal standard when determining what constitutes substantial non-compliance capable of invalidating an election.

2025: When 16,640 Registered Voters Mattered

In Nambi Faridah Kigongo v Luyimbazi Elias Nalukoola and Electoral Commission, Election Petition No. 1 of 2025, reported as [2025] UGHCCD 58, Justice Namanya set aside Nalukoola’s election, declared the seat vacant and ordered a fresh election. Each party was directed to bear its own costs.

The court found that violence had disrupted electoral processes at 14 polling stations and that the Electoral Commission failed to count, declare and tally results from those stations, affecting 16,640 registered voters.

The court considered this failure alongside the finding concerning prohibited campaigning by Nalukoola on polling day.

The declared results gave Nalukoola 17,939 votes against Faridah Nambi Kigongo’s 9,058, a winning margin of 8,881 votes.

The judge reasoned that the exclusion of the 14 polling stations had the potential to affect the election result substantially. The number of registered voters excluded was sufficiently large to put the declared victory in doubt.

The distinction matters. The figure of 16,640 represented registered voters who were disenfranchised, not 16,640 confirmed votes that had actually been cast and counted.

The court did not have to establish that every affected voter would have participated or voted for the petitioner. The central question was whether the scale of the disenfranchisement and the circumstances surrounding the omitted results substantially affected the election.

This was a consequential interpretation of electoral fairness. It recognised that an election cannot always be judged exclusively by the votes appearing in the final tally when the process itself has excluded a substantial number of eligible voters.

The judgment ultimately resulted in Nalukoola’s election being annulled.

2026: When Irregularities Were Found but the Result Was Upheld

The decision in Nalubowa Rose v Nameere Justine and Others, Election Petition No. 5 of 2026, reported as [2026] UGHC 1325, presents a different outcome.

In this case, the court identified serious irregularities in a court ordered recount. These included compromised ballot boxes, missing or inconsistent contents, failures in safeguarding electoral materials and the exclusion of nine polling stations rather than the rejection of individual invalid ballots.

The judgment acknowledged that the recount had been conducted in non-compliance with electoral law.

Yet Justice Namanya dismissed Nalubowa’s petition, holding that she had not proved that the irregularities substantially affected the result. The certificate declaring Nameere the winner following the recount therefore remained in force, and costs were awarded to the respondents.

The key question lies in the court’s assessment of the electoral numbers.

According to the figures presented in this comparison, the nine excluded polling stations represented approximately 3,886 registered voters, while the reported number of votes cast was about 1,353.

The judge’s reasoning focused on the actual votes cast. Even if all 1,353 votes were hypothetically allocated to Nalubowa, the argument went, she would still fall approximately 973 votes short of Nameere’s total.

On that numerical basis, the petitioner failed to establish that the irregularities substantially affected the result.

But this is precisely where the comparison demands closer scrutiny.

If the 3,886 registered voters associated with the excluded polling stations are used as the starting point, that number exceeds Nameere’s reported winning margin of 2,326 votes.

This does not automatically establish that Nalubowa should have won. Registered voters are not the same as ballots cast, and an excluded polling station does not necessarily mean every registered voter was prevented from voting. Nor does the size of the registered electorate alone prove that the declared result was wrong.

Nevertheless, the figures raise a legitimate question: Why was the potential effect of disenfranchisement central to the assessment in the Nalukoola case, while the 2026 decision focused on the number of votes actually cast when evaluating the effect of irregularities?

The answer matters because the two approaches can produce radically different outcomes.

The Substantiality Test: Consistency or Distinction?

Section 80 of Uganda’s Parliamentary Elections Act provides the statutory framework for challenging parliamentary election results, including the requirement to establish that relevant non-compliance affected the result in a substantial manner.

The law does not necessarily require every election petition to be decided using identical arithmetic. The nature of the irregularity, the evidence presented, the reliability of the available records and the connection between the breach and the declared result may differ significantly from one case to another.

That is the strongest possible legal distinction between the two decisions.

In the Nalukoola case, the complaint concerned the failure to count and tally results from polling stations disrupted by violence. In the Nameere case, the dispute concerned the integrity and outcome of a recount, including the reliability of electoral materials and the treatment of polling station results.

These are not identical factual circumstances. A judge may legitimately reach different conclusions where the evidence and legal issues differ.

However, that distinction does not remove the need for transparent and consistent reasoning.

The public deserves to understand how a court determines the substantial effect of electoral irregularities when registered voters, actual ballots, missing results and compromised electoral materials are involved.

If potential disenfranchisement can put an election result in doubt in one case, what precise evidential threshold must be met before comparable concerns can affect the outcome of another?

If the court considers actual votes cast more reliable than registered voter totals in a recount dispute, should that approach also inform cases involving omitted polling station results? If not, what legal principle justifies the difference?

These are questions of judicial reasoning, not merely political disagreement.

The issue is not whether every irregularity must invalidate an election. Clearly, that would be an untenable position. The issue is whether courts explain why particular irregularities cross the statutory threshold in one case but fail to do so in another.

When Different Outcomes Create a Crisis of Confidence

Courts must remain independent of political pressure. They must also be able to explain their decisions in ways that demonstrate fidelity to the law, regardless of the candidates or political parties involved.

An election petition is not simply a contest between two politicians. It concerns the rights of voters, the credibility of electoral institutions and the public’s confidence that the declared result reflects a lawful process.

When irregularities are acknowledged but an election result is upheld, the reasoning must be sufficiently clear to explain why those irregularities do not meet the statutory threshold.

Likewise, when an election is annulled because voters were disenfranchised, the court must explain why the nature and scale of the exclusion undermine the declared outcome.

Without that clarity, the public is left to reconcile apparently different approaches on its own.

That is particularly troubling in an environment where political competition is already highly contested and public confidence in electoral institutions is fragile.

The concern is not that two different outcomes necessarily prove judicial bias. They do not. Nor is there sufficient evidence from these two decisions alone to establish that Justice Namanya acted for partisan reasons.

The concern is that an apparent difference in the application of a fundamental electoral principle requires a convincing legal explanation.

Judicial independence protects judges from political interference. It does not place their reasoning beyond public scrutiny.

Conclusion: The Law Must Be Consistent, Not Convenient

Uganda’s electoral justice system cannot command public confidence merely by announcing winners, dismissing petitions or nullifying elections. Its legitimacy also depends on whether the legal principles behind those decisions are applied transparently and consistently.

Justice Namanya’s 2025 Nalukoola judgment treated the disenfranchisement of 16,640 registered voters as a substantial factor in invalidating an election. His 2026 Nameere judgment acknowledged electoral irregularities but found that the petitioner had not demonstrated a substantial effect on the result.

There may be legally defensible reasons for that difference. Establishing whether those reasons adequately explain the contrasting outcomes requires careful examination of the full judgments, the evidence and the applicable statutory test.

But the central question remains unavoidable:

What precise legal principle explains why electoral irregularities sufficient to overturn one election did not justify overturning the other?

That question deserves a reasoned answer, not political defensiveness or dismissal of public concern.

If the distinction is legally sound, the court’s reasoning should withstand scrutiny. If the approach to substantiality has shifted, that shift deserves examination and clarification.

The stakes extend beyond Nalukoola, Nameere, Nambi and Nalubowa. They concern every Ugandan voter who expects the same law to apply regardless of political affiliation, personal influence or the identity of the candidate who benefits from the outcome.

Justice must not only be done. In electoral disputes, the reasoning behind it must also be clear enough for the public to understand why it was done.

For when citizens begin to suspect that the legal standard changes with the political circumstances, the damage extends beyond a single election. It reaches the credibility of the courts themselves.

The Hoima Post believes that the comparison between these judgments warrants serious legal scrutiny. The question is not whether a particular candidate deserves to win, but whether electoral law is being interpreted and applied according to consistent, transparent and defensible principles.

Alexander Luyima, GDipICL
The Hoima Post

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The Eddy Kenzo Charcoal Clash » The Hoima Post –

Alexander Luyima 6 hours ago

By Alexander Luyima | The Hoima Post

There is a particular cruelty in watching people who once understood the struggles of the poor begin speaking about those struggles as though they were merely an inconvenience. Uganda’s renewed charcoal controversy has exposed precisely this tension: the collision between environmental protection, economic survival and the growing distance between public figures and the ordinary people whose experiences once gave their voices meaning.

At the centre of this debate is celebrated musician Eddy Kenzo, a man whose personal story and music have resonated with generations of Ugandans familiar with the harsh realities of life on Kampala’s streets. His recent defence of the shift away from charcoal has raised an uncomfortable question: when someone rises from deprivation to prominence, how well do they continue to understand those who remain trapped in it?

The controversy intensified after State Minister for Mineral Development Phiona Nyamutoro spoke publicly about abandoning charcoal in her household and encouraged Ugandans to embrace cleaner cooking alternatives. Her remarks attracted criticism from people who questioned whether ordinary households could realistically afford the alternatives being promoted.

Kenzo subsequently defended the case for change, arguing that cutting trees, producing charcoal, transporting it and using it are difficult, while also pointing to the health risks associated with charcoal smoke.

On the surface, these arguments are not without merit. Deforestation is a serious environmental concern, and smoke from solid fuels presents genuine health risks. Uganda has every reason to expand access to cleaner cooking technologies.

But there is a fundamental question that environmental advocates and policymakers must answer: what happens when the alternative to an unhealthy cooking fuel is financially out of reach for the people being asked to abandon it?

That is where this debate stops being merely about charcoal and becomes a question of class, public policy and social responsibility.

When environmental policy meets economic reality

In May 2023, President Yoweri Kaguta Museveni issued Executive Order No. 3, imposing restrictions on charcoal burning and trade in specified regions of Northern Uganda, West Nile, Teso and Karamoja. The directive was intended to address environmental degradation, including the destruction of indigenous trees.

Yet enforcement has brought renewed attention to a problem that cannot be resolved by directives alone: millions of households continue to depend on traditional biomass fuels because cleaner alternatives remain financially or practically inaccessible.

Parliament itself recognised the problem. On October 14, 2026, Speaker Jacob Marksons Oboth directed the suspension of enforcement pending a government statement on the restrictions and the availability of alternative cooking energy.

The concern was straightforward. Before government intensifies enforcement, it must demonstrate that ordinary citizens have realistic alternatives.

That is not an argument against environmental protection. It is an argument for environmental policy that recognises economic reality.

A household cannot cook a meal with a policy statement. A mother cannot feed her children with an announcement about clean energy. And a low-income family cannot automatically afford a gas cylinder, the initial equipment, subsequent refills or the other costs associated with changing its cooking arrangements simply because a public official has embraced a different lifestyle.

The transition must be affordable, accessible and practical.

The problem with forgetting the dust

Eddy Kenzo’s public image has long been connected to his journey from hardship to international recognition. His story has carried particular meaning for people who see their own struggles reflected in his rise.

The image of the Kaana Ka Mbaata, the resilient child who survives circumstances that might otherwise destroy him, provides a powerful cultural lens through which to examine this controversy.

Kenzo is entitled to advocate for cleaner cooking. He is entitled to defend environmental protection and to explain why he believes charcoal should be replaced. Disagreement with his position does not invalidate the environmental or public-health concerns behind it.

But the public is equally entitled to ask whether the conversation adequately recognises the circumstances of people who cannot afford the alternatives.

When the difficulties of producing and using charcoal become the principal argument for abandoning it, the discussion risks overlooking the economic forces that keep households dependent on it.

People do not necessarily choose charcoal because they enjoy the smoke, the soot or the inconvenience. For many, it is the option they can afford and access. Others depend on the trade itself for income, including producers, transporters, vendors and their families.

Their circumstances cannot be understood simply by describing charcoal as dirty or inconvenient.

The real question is not whether cleaner cooking is desirable. It is whether the country has made that transition possible for the people who need it most.

The tragedy of elite distance

There is a broader social pattern worth examining here. As individuals rise from difficult circumstances into positions of wealth, influence or political proximity, they can become increasingly removed from the realities that shaped their earlier lives.

That possibility deserves scrutiny, particularly when public figures use their platforms to support policies that directly affect low-income communities.

However, proximity to power does not automatically prove that someone has abandoned their origins. Nor does advocating cleaner cooking necessarily amount to contempt for poor people.

The issue is whether advocacy is accompanied by an adequate appreciation of the obstacles facing the people expected to change.

A successful musician can afford to recommend a different cooking method. A minister can champion a clean-energy campaign. But a household living on a limited income must calculate the actual cost of making that change.

Those are different economic realities, and public debate becomes weaker when it treats them as though they were the same.

Kenzo’s remarks therefore invite a larger conversation about the responsibilities that accompany cultural influence. When an artist’s story becomes a symbol of survival for disadvantaged communities, the public may reasonably expect that artist to engage their difficulties with sensitivity, even when advocating for necessary change.

That expectation is not a demand that successful people remain poor in their outlook or reject progress. It is a reminder that personal advancement should not erase the ability to understand those who have not enjoyed the same opportunities.

Government cannot outsource the cost of change to the poor

Ultimately, this controversy cannot be reduced to Eddy Kenzo or Phiona Nyamutoro. The central responsibility lies with the institutions charged with protecting the environment while ensuring that citizens can meet their basic needs.

Uganda’s clean-cooking ambitions require more than public awareness campaigns. They require affordable equipment, reliable distribution networks, accessible fuel supplies, practical financing arrangements and credible support for households and businesses affected by restrictions.

Government must also consider the people whose livelihoods depend on charcoal production and trade. A transition that protects forests while destroying incomes without providing realistic alternatives risks transferring the cost of environmental protection onto those least equipped to bear it.

Subsidies, targeted assistance, alternative livelihood programmes and a phased transition deserve serious consideration. Enforcement should be accompanied by clear guidance, transparent implementation and meaningful engagement with affected communities.

The environmental argument is important. So is the health argument. But neither removes the obligation to address affordability.

A policy cannot be judged solely by the environmental outcome it promises. Its implementation must also account for who bears the immediate costs, who receives the benefits and whether vulnerable households have a fair opportunity to adapt.

The dust has not disappeared

Eddy Kenzo has travelled far from the circumstances that first made his story resonate with so many people. That achievement deserves to be understood on its own terms. Yet his recent intervention has reopened a question that extends beyond one musician: what responsibility do influential people have when their advocacy touches the daily survival of communities they once represented?

The answer should not be to reject cleaner cooking or defend environmental destruction. It should be to insist that progress must be designed around the realities of ordinary people.

The poor should not be expected to finance a national energy transition through sacrifices they cannot afford. They should not have to choose between protecting their health and putting food on the table. And charcoal traders should not be treated as though their economic dependence on the trade makes them indifferent to the environment.

The Kaana Ka Mbaata may have risen above the dust, but the dust remains a daily reality for millions of Ugandans.

The real test of progress is not whether those who escape hardship can explain why others should change. It is whether the country can make change possible for those who have yet to escape it.

Until cleaner cooking becomes genuinely affordable and accessible, the charcoal debate will remain about much more than trees, smoke or soot. It will remain a test of whether Uganda’s pursuit of environmental progress can also deliver economic dignity to the people who need it most.

Alexander Luyima writes on social, economic and public affairs for The Hoima Post.

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Why Ssempebwa’s Warning Mandates Systemic Change » The Hoima Post –

Alexander Luyima 2 days ago

By Alexander Luyima | The Hoima Post

As Uganda creeps closer toward its next political crossroads, the public square remains dangerously fixated on a binary spectacle. Political analysts, media houses, and everyday citizens are heavily invested in a singular, high stakes question: Will the future belong to the fiery opposition stance of Bobi Wine (Robert Kyagulanyi), or will it transition to the military pedigree of Gen. Muhoozi Kainerugaba?

It is a captivating drama, filled with generational friction, contrasting ideologies, and deep seated anxieties about the post Museveni era. Yet, according to one of the primary architects of Uganda’s constitutional framework, this obsession is a dangerous distraction.

Speaking recently on BBS Terefayina, Professor Fredrick Ssempebwa, the eminent jurist who chaired the landmark Constitutional Review Commission, issued a sobering reality check that should reverberate through every corner of our political discourse. His thesis was clear, concise, and entirely unsparing: The fundamental issue facing Uganda is not choosing between Bobi Wine and Gen. Muhoozi, but rather changing the system itself.

Professor Ssempebwa’s warning strikes at the very heart of Uganda’s democratic deficit. For decades, our national politics has been reduced to an arena of personalization, where salvation or ruin is projected onto individual figures. We treat elections like a change of personnel rather than an interrogation of power. But as Ssempebwa rightly implies, substituting the driver does very little good if the vehicle’s engine is fundamentally broken.

The current system is not failing by accident; it is failing by design. It is a system characterized by an overcentralized executive, eroded institutional checks and balances, and a political economy that treats state machinery as a tool for patronage. If these structural realities remain untouched, any leader, no matter how well intentioned or powerful, will eventually find themselves constrained by, or co opted into, the same machinery of governance.

Furthermore, Ssempebwa pointedly directed his critique toward current maneuvers to alter the Constitution, particularly the quiet, calculated whispers aimed at shifting Uganda toward a parliamentary system where MPs, rather than universal adult suffrage, would select the president. Ssempebwa called these efforts what they are: a mistake. He reminded the nation that during the constitutional consultations, the citizens of Uganda explicitly rejected a parliamentary system for choosing the head of state. To reverse this now is not an act of legislative reform; it is a direct subversion of the popular will designed to insulate power from the ballot box.

To make matters worse, this systemic decay is enabled by widespread socioeconomic vulnerability. When poverty is weaponized and institutionalized, the electorate is stripped of its agency. A voter preoccupied with basic survival is inherently vulnerable to political manipulation and financial influence. True democratic choice cannot exist in a vacuum of economic desperation.

Therefore, the challenge ahead of us cannot be solved by simply rallying behind a preferred political savior. The conversation must shift from who sits in the State House to how that institution relates to citizens, the law, and the economy.

Ugandans must demand a comprehensive overhaul: the restoration of genuine constitutionalism, the independence of state institutions, and an economic model that prioritizes the dignity of the ordinary citizen over political survival.

Professor Ssempebwa has held up a mirror to the nation. If we continue to treat our future as a mere personality contest between Bobi Wine and Gen. Muhoozi, we will remain trapped in an endless cycle of disillusionment. It is time to stop arguing over who holds the steering wheel and finally start rebuilding the system.

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WHO TAKES RESPONSIBILITY? » The Hoima Post –

Alexander Luyima 3 days ago

By Alexander Luyima | The Hoima Post

A project introduced in the name of national security is now raising difficult questions about public money, procurement, political responsibility and government accountability.

Uganda’s Intelligent Transport Monitoring System (ITMS), built around digital number plates and vehicle-tracking technology, was intended to help security agencies identify and trace vehicles linked to crime. But controversy over its cost, exclusive contract, implementation challenges and legal foundation has turned it into a major test of public-sector accountability.

At the centre of the debate is a fundamental question: when a president personally pushes a project forward, who answers when its implementation raises serious concerns?

FROM SECURITY DIRECTIVE TO PUBLIC CONTROVERSY

The project’s origins date to June 20, 2018, when President Yoweri Museveni addressed Parliament following a series of security concerns, including the assassination of Arua Municipality MP Ibrahim Abiriga.

Museveni proposed digital monitoring of vehicles and motorcycles as part of a wider security response. The objective was to improve the ability of security agencies to trace vehicles and investigate crime.

The intention was understandable. Protecting citizens is a legitimate responsibility of government, and technology can play an important role in public safety.

But a legitimate objective does not automatically justify every decision taken in its name.

In subsequent correspondence, Museveni pressed for the project’s implementation, directing that Russian company Joint Stock Company Global Security be allowed to proceed using its own financing and recover its investment through user fees.

A ten-year agreement followed in 2021.

That arrangement should have demanded rigorous scrutiny from the outset. How was the contractor selected? Was the proposed cost reasonable? Were the contractual terms legally sound? And what safeguards would protect motorists from excessive charges or service failures?

These are not secondary questions. They go to the heart of whether the project was properly designed and whether Uganda secured value for money.

PRESIDENTIAL POWER MUST COME WITH ACCOUNTABILITY

Museveni’s role in initiating and advancing the project raises a legitimate question of political responsibility.

This does not establish that the President committed an offence or that he personally caused every subsequent problem. Those conclusions require evidence.

However, political leadership cannot be separated entirely from the consequences of major decisions made under its authority.

When a president personally directs that a project proceed, the public is entitled to ask whether procurement rules, legal safeguards and independent technical assessments were respected before implementation began.

A presidential directive can establish policy. It cannot replace due diligence, justify an unexplained price or exempt a contractor from scrutiny.

The higher the authority behind a project, the greater the need for transparent safeguards.

If officials felt unable to challenge decisions because of the political weight behind them, that would raise a further institutional concern. Public servants must be able to flag legal, financial and technical risks without treating presidential instructions as a substitute for professional judgment.

The real test of leadership is not simply whether a project is ordered. It is whether the institutions responsible for delivering it are equipped and permitted to ensure that it works.

SHS714,300: WHERE IS THE BREAKDOWN?

The reported charge of Shs714,300 for a new digital number plate set has become one of the most contentious aspects of the project.

For motorists, transport operators and small businesses, this is a substantial expense. For a boda boda rider or a small business owner, additional registration costs can directly affect income and operating expenses.

The government therefore owes the public a straightforward explanation: what exactly does the fee cover, how was it calculated, and what evidence demonstrates that it represents value for money?

Officials should be able to provide a verifiable breakdown covering the relevant equipment, installation, monitoring infrastructure, operating costs, contractor investment and other applicable charges.

If the pricing is justified, the evidence should demonstrate that. If it is not, the government must explain what corrective measures are available.

Reports of parliamentary questioning in October 2026 indicated that officials struggled to explain the fee satisfactorily. The reported arrests of officials during the inquiry added to the controversy, but an arrest is not proof of guilt. Any criminal allegations must be established through due process.

The wider accountability issue, however, remains.

Citizens should not be asked to pay a substantial public fee without a transparent explanation of how it was determined.

A TEN-YEAR CONTRACT UNDER SCRUTINY

The reported ten-year exclusive arrangement with Joint Stock Company Global Security raises another fundamental question: was Uganda’s procurement process sufficiently competitive, transparent and legally sound?

Single-supplier arrangements can sometimes be justified, particularly where specialised technology or security considerations are involved. But exclusivity makes strong safeguards even more important.

The government must demonstrate why the contractor was selected, how its price and technical capabilities were evaluated, and what protections exist against excessive costs, underperformance or long-term dependence on one supplier.

Parliamentary scrutiny has also raised concerns about the agreement’s legal foundation. Such concerns must be investigated carefully rather than treated as proof that the contract is automatically invalid.

The government should publish the relevant findings, subject to lawful confidentiality restrictions, and clearly establish the agreement’s legal status and the obligations of each party.

If the process was defective, the public deserves to know who was responsible and what lawful remedies are available.

A project’s security label must never become a blanket excuse for avoiding accountability.

WHEN IMPLEMENTATION FAILS, THE ECONOMY PAYS

The controversy is not limited to contractual paperwork or the price of number plates. Reported delays and interruptions have raised concerns about the system’s practical effects on motorists and businesses.

When vehicles cannot complete registration or are delayed by shortages of plates and related equipment, the consequences extend beyond individual motorists. Dealers, transport operators and businesses dependent on vehicle movement can face financial losses and operational disruption.

The technology itself must also be assessed honestly.

An electronic number plate should not be confused with the wider tracking system. Vehicle tracking may depend on separate GPS devices, communications infrastructure and monitoring facilities. Citizens deserve a clear explanation of which components they are paying for and what each component delivers.

The government should provide measurable evidence of the system’s security benefits, including its contribution to investigations, vehicle recovery and crime prevention.

Without such evidence, the public cannot properly judge whether the investment has achieved its stated purpose.

A project cannot be considered successful merely because equipment has been procured or fees collected. Its value must be demonstrated through results.

WHERE WAS THE OVERSIGHT?

A further question concerns the timing and extent of independent financial scrutiny.

Parliamentary reporting in October 2026 raised concerns about auditing of the ITMS project and calls for further examination of its financial arrangements.

For a project involving a substantial private investment and a long-term agreement, effective oversight should be built into implementation from the beginning.

An audit is not an accusation. It is a basic safeguard for establishing what was spent, what obligations were incurred, whether contractual terms were followed and whether the public received value for money.

If adequate scrutiny was delayed, the responsible institutions should explain why and identify the changes needed to prevent a recurrence.

Security projects may require confidentiality over operational details, but financial accountability and lawful procurement cannot simply disappear behind the language of national security.

WHAT MUST HAPPEN NOW?

Parliament’s scrutiny must lead to clear, evidence-based answers.

First, the government must explain how the contractor was selected and establish whether the procurement and contract complied with applicable law.

Second, the Shs714,300 charge must be supported by a detailed, independently verifiable cost breakdown.

Third, the government must demonstrate what security benefits the system has delivered and whether those benefits justify its overall cost.

Fourth, the project’s financial records and contractual obligations must receive credible independent scrutiny, with findings published wherever legally permissible.

Finally, responsibility must be established for any confirmed failures. If officials breached their duties, appropriate action should follow the evidence and the law. If contractual defects are established, the government must determine how to address them while protecting taxpayers from avoidable liabilities.

These are reasonable expectations, not political demands.

THE REAL TEST IS ACCOUNTABILITY

Uganda’s digital number plate project began with a security objective. Its future now depends on whether the government can answer serious questions about cost, procurement, implementation and results.

President Museveni’s role in advancing the project makes political accountability a legitimate part of the debate. But the investigation must go beyond personalities and establish the responsibilities of the officials, institutions and contractor involved.

The public needs facts, not political theatre. It needs transparent costs, lawful contracts, credible audits and measurable security outcomes.

Above all, Uganda needs a system in which major government projects can be scrutinised regardless of who initiated them.

A presidential directive is not a substitute for a sound contract. A security justification is not proof of value for money. And a project’s stated intentions cannot excuse failures in implementation.

The question is no longer simply who ordered Uganda’s digital number plates. It is whether the institutions entrusted with protecting the public interest did their job—and who will be held accountable if they did not.

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Where Are Uganda’s Missing Citizens » The Hoima Post –

Alexander Luyima 5 days ago

By Alexander Luyima | The Hoima Post

Where is Sam Mugumya? And why does it seem easier to document human rights violations than to stop them?

These are questions Uganda and the international human rights community can no longer afford to ignore.

For years, allegations of abductions, arbitrary arrests, torture and enforced disappearances have haunted Uganda’s political landscape. Families search for missing relatives. Lawyers turn to the courts. Human rights organisations publish reports. Governments face condemnation.

Then the headlines fade.

The reports remain. The families remain in anguish. The victims remain missing. And life moves on for everyone except those waiting for answers.

What, then, is the practical value of documenting human rights violations if those responsible are never held accountable and those affected are never rescued?

Sam Mugumya: A Question That Will Not Go Away

Sam Mugumya, a longtime associate of opposition leader Dr Kizza Besigye, was reportedly taken by armed men in Mbarara on August 26, 2025. His whereabouts subsequently became the subject of court proceedings seeking his production before the High Court.

In September 2025, military authorities reportedly maintained that searches of relevant defence detention facilities and records had found no entry showing that Mugumya was being held.

Then came a disturbing development.

In September 2026, former military intelligence officer Lt Herbert Matanda Mabonga came forward with videos and allegations concerning secret detention facilities. He claimed to have information relevant to the fate of missing individuals, including Mugumya. The military rejected his allegations, and the footage requires independent verification.

On October 2, 2026, a statement attributed to Uganda’s army chief, General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, reportedly claimed that Mugumya was in his custody and threatened to execute him.

If accurately reported, this raises an extraordinary question: How can a person be publicly claimed to be in custody when military authorities previously denied holding him?

That apparent contradiction demands an immediate, credible explanation.

If Mugumya is alive and detained, he must be produced before the appropriate court and afforded the protection of the law. If he is not in state custody, authorities must help establish his whereabouts and investigate the circumstances of his disappearance.

There should be no ambiguity about a human being’s fate.

NUP Supporters Are Not Statistics

Mugumya’s case is not isolated from the wider concerns surrounding political freedoms in Uganda.

National Unity Platform supporters and other government critics have faced allegations of arbitrary arrest, unlawful detention, torture and enforced disappearance. Human rights organisations have documented serious concerns, while families continue to seek information about missing relatives and access to justice.

Behind every case is a human being. Behind every missing person is a family trapped between hope and despair.

These people are not statistics to be counted in annual reports. They are citizens whose rights deserve protection, regardless of political affiliation.

A country cannot credibly claim to uphold the rule of law if people can allegedly be taken by armed men, disappear from public view and leave their families searching for answers for months or years.

Nor should anyone have to wait for a loved one to emerge injured or dead before their suffering receives serious attention.

Justice delayed is painful. Justice documented but never pursued is an even deeper betrayal of public trust.

To Human Rights Organisations: What Happens After the Reports?

My questions are directed to the Uganda Human Rights Commission, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, the United Nations human rights mechanisms and other organisations committed to defending human dignity.

You document abuses. You publish reports. You issue statements. You call for investigations.

But what happens next?

How many missing people have been located through sustained follow-up? How many families have received credible answers? What mechanisms are activated when domestic authorities fail to investigate? What protection is available to witnesses and whistleblowers who risk their safety to expose alleged abuses?

And when a case remains unresolved, who keeps pressing until there is a meaningful outcome?

I recognise that these organisations have different mandates and powers. They cannot all arrest suspects, compel governments to comply or personally secure the release of detainees. But their influence, investigative capacity, legal advocacy and international networks should be mobilised to pursue practical results.

The public deserves to know not only what violations have been documented, but also what action has followed, what obstacles remain and what further steps are possible.

Human rights work must not end when a report is published. Documentation should be a starting point for action, not a substitute for it.

The State Must Answer

The primary responsibility for protecting citizens, investigating alleged crimes and ensuring accountability rests with the state and its institutions.

Ugandan authorities must establish the whereabouts of missing people, investigate credible allegations of unlawful detention and torture, preserve evidence and ensure that anyone responsible for proven offences faces due process.

The courts must be able to exercise their authority without obstruction or unnecessary delay. Parliament must follow through on its oversight responsibilities. Investigators must examine evidence impartially, regardless of who is implicated.

And where public statements appear to contradict sworn court declarations, the public deserves a clear explanation.

These demands are not partisan. They apply equally to supporters of the National Unity Platform, the National Resistance Movement and citizens who belong to no political party.

Constitutional rights are not privileges granted by those in power. They are protections that limit the power of the state.

We Must Act Before Another Family Is Left Mourning

One of the most troubling patterns in public life is how quickly outrage can fade.

When a person disappears, there are questions. When evidence emerges, there are demands for answers. When someone dies, there are tributes, condolences and expressions of sadness.

Then the world moves on.

But the family does not move on so easily. The unanswered questions remain. The loss remains. The fear that another person could suffer the same fate remains.

Why must families carry this burden alone?

Why should witnesses fear retaliation for coming forward?

Why should the whereabouts of a missing citizen become a political controversy instead of an urgent matter requiring investigation?

And why should human rights institutions have to document the same kinds of allegations repeatedly without the public seeing meaningful progress towards accountability?

We must stop treating these cases as temporary headlines. Every credible allegation deserves proper examination, every missing person deserves urgent attention, and every victim deserves access to justice.

I Will Keep Asking

I do not claim to be the only person asking where Sam Mugumya is. Lawyers, relatives, journalists, opposition leaders and human rights advocates have also raised concerns.

But the question must not disappear simply because asking it is uncomfortable.

If people are afraid to speak, that fear itself deserves attention. No one should be threatened for demanding answers, and witnesses who come forward with credible evidence deserve appropriate protection.

Lt Herbert Matanda Mabonga’s allegations must be independently examined. Sam Mugumya’s whereabouts must be established. Other families searching for missing relatives must not be forgotten. Anyone responsible for proven wrongdoing must be held accountable through lawful processes.

To the Uganda Human Rights Commission, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and the international human rights community: what concrete action can you take to help turn documented violations into protection, answers and justice?

To the Ugandan authorities: where is Sam Mugumya?

And to all of us: how many more families must endure this uncertainty before accountability becomes more than a promise?

We cannot keep waiting for victims to die before we recognise the urgency of their suffering.

We cannot keep confusing reports with results, statements with solutions or condemnation with justice.

The true test of a human rights system is not how eloquently it describes suffering, but how effectively it helps end it.

WHERE IS SAM MUGUMYA?

And when power is abused, what can actually stop it?

Alexander Luyima | The Hoima Post

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