By Dr. Sarah Bireete
In Uganda, it’s Dangerous to Be Right When the Government Is Wrong The danger does not begin on a Saturday night; it merely becomes more visible then. Under the long rule of Yoweri Museveni, power now survives not by submitting to the Constitution, but by outgrowing it. The President’s Saturday address is not an anomaly; it is a confirmation.
The supreme law is spoken of with casual confidence, even mockery, as though constitutional limits are inconveniences to be explained away rather than boundaries to be obeyed. This posture reflects years of practice, not a single speech. Across the country, the abuse of human rights is continuous and normalized.
Arrests without warrants, enforced disappearances, torture, and prolonged detention are treated as administrative measures rather than grave violations. Each incident is justified in the language of security and stability, yet the pattern exposes a deeper reality: the state is not protecting citizens, it is protecting power. In this environment, being right about the law becomes an act of defiance.
The judiciary remains open, but its independence is under visible strain. Courts sit, files move, judgments are written, yet hesitation defines moments that demand courage. Politically sensitive cases are delayed, narrowed, or resolved on technicalities. Judicial independence exists in constitutional text and public ceremonies, but in practice it is fragile, conditional, and carefully managed.
The truth enters the courtroom, but it rarely leaves with force. Within the justice system, due process is steadily re-engineered. Institutions operating under the Justice Law and Order Sector act in coordination when suppressing dissent, while moving slowly when citizens seek protection. Arrests precede investigations, bail is resisted, and legal safeguards are applied selectively. Procedure is no longer a shield; it is a weapon.
The process itself becomes punishment. For activists, journalists, and critics, the pattern is predictable. Files open with unusual speed, charges are framed broadly, and court cases drag on endlessly. The Directorate of Public Prosecutions, constitutionally mandated to act independently, functions in practice as a channel through which political discomfort is converted into criminal accusation. Convictions are optional; intimidation is not. To insist on the truth is to accept legal exhaustion. When speech survives arrests and prosecutions, the state turns to silence by other means.
Media houses that consistently publish inconvenient facts are shut down or suspended. The closure of Daily Monitor and NTV Uganda signals something unmistakable: a government confident in its conduct does not fear headlines. Only one afraid of scrutiny switches off the public microphone. Taken together, these are not isolated failures; they are the operating system of the present. The Constitution is not abolished; it is hollowed out daily.
Courts are not closed; they are restrained. Laws are not ignored; they are repurposed. Familiarity replaces outrage, and repetition normalizes abuse. And so the truth of the moment is stark. In today’s Uganda, it is not dangerous to be wrong. It is dangerous to be right about the Constitution, about human dignity, about the rule of law; when the government has chosen to govern by fear of the truth rather than respect for it. (For comments on this story, get back to us on 0705579994 [WhatsApp line], 0779411734 & 041 4674611 or email us at mulengeranews@gmail.com).
