YUSUF SSERUNKUMA

Godwin: This is already here, Yusuf Sserunkuma. Like I explained earlier, and unfortunately, the other space collapsed, like I said on the other space we had yesterday, but one. These technologies sometimes go beyond us. They’re not entirely in our control, so sometimes it’s things we can’t handle. But yeah, we are glad that Yusuf is now finally here. Yusuf, we’ve waited for you patiently, and we are glad to have you. I’ve sent an invitation to speak. Thank you. Kindly accept it, and then you can be ushered in. So briefly, this is the fifth edition of the transition discussion that we are hosting. If you missed any of the last four, you can go and find them on the Agora handle. We’ve, for instance, hosted people like Gen Mugisha Muntu. We’ve hosted Andrew Mwenda. We also had the chance to host Daudi Mpanga. And then we hosted senior citizen Salamu Sumba.

In the interest of keeping up with these conversations, today we have academic, author, columnist—some would say controversial columnist—Yusuf Sserunkuma. And we also have a list of other eminent Ugandans lined up for this discussion. It’s not in my habit to say this before, but I will just mention that we have people like Charles Onyango obbo, who we are pursuing. People like Dr. Miriam Matembe, who we believe can contribute to this discussion very, very importantly. And they are also on our radar, and not far from being hosted. People like senior citizen Wandela Ogalo, who we are going to host for these conversations.

It goes without saying that Uganda is, all the indications show, at a very critical juncture. We have a president who is now 80 years. He’s been at the throne—I mean, he’s been in charge—for over 40 years. I think he’s the third-longest-serving president in Africa right now, behind Paul Biya and Nguema of Guinea-Bissau. Probably the third or the fourth-longest-serving president in Africa. Yeah, but when it comes to such things, the conversations that we start having, the discussions that must happen—how do we move on from here? So I’m glad that we have Yusuf today to partake in this conversation and further the discussion. This conversation is going to be recorded, so you can always come back and listen to it even after the discussion and push whichever part of it you want. So just to confirm that our guest is here—Yusuf Sserunkuma, are you here with us?

Sserunkuma: Hello, Godwin Toko, I am here. Thank you so much for having me.

Godwin: Glad, glad, glad, glad. It’s a pleasure that we have you today. It’s been a while since we last had you, and we are glad that whenever we call you to these discussions, it’s like you’re just a phone call away, and you’re always there to have the discussion. So Yusuf, without further ado, let’s begin by gauging President Museveni. Forty years—the longest-serving president in Uganda’s history. If you put together all the time the other presidents served, they wouldn’t even make half of his term. The only period that lasted longer than his is the colonial period, which went for about 69 years. But he has now served Uganda for over 40 years. If you were to gauge President Museveni with other presidents that Uganda has had, how would you rate his reign based on the facts and the events as of today, as we know them since 1986 to now?

Sserunkuma: I think, Godwin, I think Mr. Museveni would be happy to hear you ask such a question because we are used to Yoweri Museveni, you know, telling us about his reign, comparing it with the previous presidents. Yeah, that was front one of the question. This is front two. But listen first—it’s an unfair comparison. We tend to do this comparison all the time. And it’s not fair because, you know, after 40 years in power, you can only understand your reign by your own self. I don’t really believe in understanding by comparison. I really think that things can be understood on their own terms. So I think it’s not fair to often go back—how would you compare Mr. Museveni to the others? How would you compare Mr. Museveni to Idi Amin? I mean, he loves playing this game. I really think he’d be very happy to hear you ask this question because you’re really playing on his terms. OK, I think the fair question would be, you know, a fair assessment of Yoweri Museveni on his own terms. How is it? How should we think about it? Right? And I think to ask that question fairly and squarely, you have to locate Museveni in his own time. You know, yesterday you and I had this conversation privately, and I said Museveni is lucky. He’s a lucky beneficiary. He’s so lucky that the presidents that came before him were presidents in a time of immense violent confrontation between the superpowers.

Museveni becomes president—like so many men who became president in the 1980s—when there was only one single superpower. And if you’re willing to serve this superpower, you’re good to go. You could stay in office as long as you wanted, as long as you’re willing to serve this power. And Yoweri Museveni has done this so diligently. Right? And I think there was some misunderstanding before, when he had just become president, whether he was a communist or he was not. Whether he would work with the Wanainchi, whether he would empower the Ugandan masses. There was some misunderstanding at the very beginning, right? But I think 20 years in, those who knew have given us the ability at least to appreciate that there was no misunderstanding. The man was a clear-cut colonial comprador of our time.

He was more than willing to serve the interests of the empire. And I think on the African continent, the best example—the example, the most outstanding performer of serving the colonial machine—is Mr. Yoweri Museveni. He’s done absolutely fantastic. You know, I mean, recently we even read a book where the former prime minister of the UK said, there’s an archaic man—that’s how he described him—there’s an archaic president of Uganda. But we still need him for whatever he’s doing for us.…man, that’s how he described him. There’s an archaic president of Uganda, but we still need him for whatever he’s doing for us, right? So, if I were to judge Yoweri Museveni, I would judge him against his mandate. His mandate was: How am I going to serve the empire? And I think he’s done sufficiently well.

Godwin: Okay, yeah, so you’ve answered both the first and the second question because the second was to ask you about how you’d gauge him based on his own performance in this day and age. Now, that aside, I have with me here three of your articles. Very, very provocative, I must say, to the listeners.

Sserunkuma: Maybe the better ones.

Godwin: Very straightforward and candid.

Sserunkuma: I think “provocative” is a very terrible term. I think you’d rather say…

Godwin: I could say “inciting” as well. I could say “insightful” as well. I could say any of those.

Sserunkuma: I’m saying straightforward and candid.

Godwin: Fair, fair enough.

The first one that I read today says, Again, Kizza Besigye Is Not the enemy. It says a lot of stuff, but of course, it draws to that final picture where you’re saying that the deep state—those in the deep state—are making a mistake by treating Besigye like he’s the enemy of Uganda. And you say the enemy is within. And then you go on to say, fair enough, that the enemy is Museveni—not for the crimes he has committed, you say those are many—but because he has failed to give this country a clear direction of what will happen when he is no longer president. For the benefit of our listeners, can you just explain what you meant by that line—that this president has refused? Because his argument is that anytime he appoints a vice president, he’s basically saying that the constitution should be followed in case of anything. Do you buy that?

Sserunkuma: No, no, it’s not… I mean, you phrased the question with so many, you know, angles. I was thinking about giving a background, then you added another layer. Maybe I would start by giving a background to my article before we come into whether a vice president can actually take the presidency, right? Maybe a bit of background. You know, Kizza Besigye is arrested from Nairobi. And although they said it was just a pistol, the overarching idea is that Kizza Besigye—for the last two years—has been trying to start an armed rebellion against the government of Yoweri Museveni, right? So that’s the overriding assumption behind the arrest of Kizza Besigye—the allegation they’re making. And, you know, I mean, it struck me as so odd. You know, as somebody who observes African politics, it struck me as so odd. Odd in the sense that, first, at a personal level, Kizza Besigye is a man who has devoted himself to democracy—to a democratic transition. He gambled with the election three times. And on every occasion, he felt cheated, even when there was immense temptation, I think, from people around him to say, Why don’t we start an armed rebellion? Kizza Besigye wasn’t persuaded, right? When the time was so sumptuous that, you know, he’s the leading opposition candidate, and within the supportive circles, they have overwhelming evidence that he actually won the election, Kizza Besigye wasn’t persuaded to start an armed rebellion, right?

Presently, he’s old. This man is in his seventies. He’s an old man. He’s not just old, but also he’s not the leading opposition candidate, right? So at a personal level, it struck me as odd that Kizza Besigye, with all his wisdom—because as a seventy-year-old, he’s wiser—he’s thinking about starting an armed rebellion…in his best, in his best, in, in his sober mind, that starting an armed rebellion would help depose Museveni. It’s absolutely a non-starter. It’s absolutely ignorant. It’s stupid, man. It’s stupid if you think about it at those levels. Then I started wondering, What is the gamble of the deep state? What are they gambling with? Right? Then I realized—the deep state is gambling with setting up… and I could be wrong on this one—but I think they’re gambling with manufacturing Kizza Besigye into a potential hero of some sort. So—so to confuse people in the opposition between Bobi Wine and Kizza Besigye. Besigye emerges out of jail as some, some hero of some sort. Maybe they release him around May or thereabouts. And when he comes out, he’s so big, and the opposition is divided. Should we support Besigye because he has some sort of heroic status, or should we stick with Bobi Wine?

And that confusion takes them into the election. And, you know, the opposition is super divided. And Museveni wins the election. Right? That sounds to me like the most plausible gamble. Right? All the fakery around this so-called armed rebellion… The most plausible gamble for me was that they’re trying to manufacture Kizza Besigye as some sort of hero. Release him at some point after all the news and the controversy. And then also confuse the man himself to stand for the presidency. And then I said, If this is their gamble, that too is stupid. That too is absolute nonsense. It’s stupid—stupid at this level because if you’re the deep state, you are interested in preserving your interests.

If you’re the deep state, you’re interested in preserving your control over the state—the state resources. You’re interested in preserving and sustaining your control over taxpayers’ money. You want to be at the helm of things. That’s your interest. And I started working with assumptions. I think folks in the deep state are way younger than Museveni, right? Because running a country is not really a job for one man. He must have his hunger zone—like his deep hunger zone—the people that he consults with, who advise him, and whose opinions he takes. And if these men think their interest is another Museveni presidency, I think they’re really gambling the wrong way. Right. So, you know, I start that article by saying things like, I’m sure that people in the deep state are drawing simulations. They are drawing scenarios. They are mapping things. Maybe we should help them map together. Right? So I’m saying, Let’s map the thing together. If you map it together, what is the threat to your interests? If you are a member of the deep state, what would be the potential threat to your interests in the next five years, in the next ten years, in the next fifteen years? What would be the threat to your interests? Is it the opposition? I think no. Is it Kizza Besigye? No. So I wanted to impress upon them that the real threat to their collective interests—which is also a threat to our interests—is the man they are trying to protect. And in trying to protect that man, it’s not really about the crimes he has committed, but because he has reached a very difficult moment. You know… you know… I mean, 2015… 2020… before that, 2010… 2011… you know, like in the past decade, right? In the past decade—2010, 2020—we’ve all flirted with the thought that perhaps Museveni is in his last days.

Right? I think all of us, in different ways, have thought—he’s 70, he’s 75, he’s 80—as we are told, that’s his age bracket. I want to say, Maybe now, it should be more sobering. Because if you’re in the deep state, you need to prepare for an 80-year-old presidency rather than an 80-year-old president who is determined to stay in power forever. I think that’s the threat to interests. Because once he dies… and I’m not saying young people don’t die… Because, you know, one of the things that bothers me, Godwin, is that we never talk about death sufficiently enough. And I think I’m very confident speaking about death because I’m a Muslim. We talk about death all the time. You know, because I lost my father not too long ago. You know, I feel like—when you reach your 80s, clearly you’re closing in.

Right? looking at history, and history tells me that transitions in Uganda have never been peaceful. They have never been straightforward. And while it might seem like the PLU and Muhoozi Kainerugaba have positioned themselves as the “standby generator,” transitions are rarely that simple. If you assume that the moment Museveni is out, Muhoozi simply steps in without resistance, then you are ignoring the potential power struggles within the deep state itself. Because the deep state isn’t a monolith—it has factions, competing interests, and ambitions. The question is: Will everyone within the power structure agree to a Muhoozi presidency? I don’t think so. There are people in the system who have spent decades consolidating their own power, who have built networks of influence, who have ambitions beyond just serving as placeholders for Museveni’s son. Do you think they will simply fold their hands and let Muhoozi take over without a fight?

Godwin: That’s the uncertainty I’m talking about. We can look at Chad, sure. 

Sserunkuma: But Uganda is not Chad. Chad has had a long tradition of military rule, and Idriss Déby’s death happened in the middle of a war. His son took over because the military saw him as the best person to continue that war. In Uganda, the situation is different. Museveni’s rule has been largely civilian-led, with a controlled military presence in politics. If he dies or is incapacitated suddenly, the process of power transfer won’t be as clean as some people think. And that’s where the real gamble of the deep state comes in. If Muhoozi and the PLU are so confident in their “standby generator” strategy, they might underestimate the resistance from within.

From those in the ruling party who feel sidelined. From those in the security apparatus who have their own ambitions.From those in the opposition who see an opportunity. So, my position is this: Yes, Muhoozi has been preparing. Yes, the PLU has positioned itself aggressively. But Uganda’s history, its political structure, and the ambitions of other players make the transition far from a foregone conclusion. And if the deep state hasn’t fully thought through that, they are sitting on a time bomb. But if you’re 80, you’re moving closer to the grave, right? And I felt, I think the deep statement to think about this conversation. And if they have this conversation, they’ll realize that they need to prepare for a vacuum that Museveni is going to throw them into.

Serrukuma: Godwin, you want to come in here?

Godwin: Yeah, I do. So two things first. One, basically, it’s actually 68 this year, not yet 70. And then, from the other side, the state would argue that they didn’t actually say Besigye is preparing for an armed rebellion, and I’m not saying they are right. The argument is that he was preparing for something akin to an assassination of the president. That’s what they’ve always maintained. So you could register those two. Now, back to the article that you wrote again, Col Kiiza Besigye is not the enemy. In that article, you also paint this picture that the palace seems not to speak in the same accord. Where does this leave ideology man, Rwabwogo? Then, of course, you throw in Muhoozi Kaineruga, and then you throw in Elwelu, and all these other people.

From your own analysis, how divided is that group, the deep state that otherwise should hold the country together in the case of such eventuality?

Sserunkuma: You know, the two names you’ve mentioned, thank you for the clarification about Kiiza Besigye and the claims of the state against Kiiza Besigye, about the age and the claim of the state. Thank you for those clarifications. The two names you’ve mentioned, Odrek Rwabwogo, who is a son-in-law to the president, and Muhoozi Kainerugaba who is Commander of armed forces you know, we wouldn’t be talking about the utterances of these people, the claims of these people, if they were not in the positions they hold, right? If they were not in the position they hold and per their, you know, past pronouncements, right? So we’re not really far off when we discuss the thing that they say, especially Muhoozi Kainerugaba. So this tags into the question you asked me before, whether I think constitutionally Jessica Arupo, who is our current vice president, will actually take power if, God forbid, Museveni died instantly, right? I say, God forbid, to say I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s a fact of life. You know, the commander of the armed forces has told us over and over again that he’s going to be president after his father, right? Now, he’s not—he’s not—he’s not—this is not irony. You know, I am the—I’m one of those who think Muhoozi is funny, and his jokes are really, uh, they lack production, but they could be good jokes, and he could make money out of them, um, but that would be his most decent, you know, income. But he’s claiming that—that he is going to be president after his father, and he’s in charge of the armed forces. I don’t see him saluting Jessica Alupo, I don’t, right? And I could be wrong—he could be a humble public servant who respects the constitution, but, you know, I’m not so naive to be unaware of our history that, you know, we—we have a military history, and normally the men in the armed forces have often taken power, right?

So if we have a man in the armed forces who’s looking forward with glee that if my father—something happens to him—he’s going to be the next president, you know, then these constitutional provisions become useless. You know what I mean? They become useless in that context. And you have a possibly—you could—you could describe it as a very aggressive—an aggressive movement called the PLU, right? PLU is an aggressive movement, and they have—they call themselves a standby generator. They’re not kidding.
They are actually a standby generator because they have a main generator. They are not kidding. And they have done substantive things to position themselves as a substantive replacement. They have done substantive things which actually make true their claim that they are a standby generator. Now, for me to say that the constitutional provisions make no sense is because I am looking at the uncertainty and the fluidity of moments of crisis. If you enter a crisis, if you enter a crisis that you wake up one day and what happened in Tanzania under the presidency of John Pombe Magufuli has happened to Uganda, there will be absolute uncertainty. There will be absolute anxiety and sheer pandemonium, right? Especially if you have a man who has held on to power for the last 40 years, 30 years, 39 now. There will be absolute panic. And I am looking at that.

Godwin: Just to chip in at that point, if you take the example of Chad, a long-serving president dies. The son who was, I think, the army commander at that time simply takes over. If PLU, the group behind Muhoozi Kainerugaba have done so much and they have positioned themselves as the standby generator, are we not worrying too much by saying, oh, there could be uncertainty? It seems like there won’t be uncertainty. The certainty is known that if the uneventuality happened, the army commander, who is the president’s son, who has run miles trying to get ready for that seat already, as all of us watched, would become the president.

Sserunkuma: Do you see that same line? I mean, where we started this conversation, I said comparative analysis is OK. But we need to be mindful of countries’ histories. We need to be aware of our history before we jump into comparisons. And I want to stick there, that we have our history where men in uniform have taken power. It hasn’t always been bloodless. It hasn’t always been bloodless, if you look at the past periods. And I’m saying, and I hope I am wrong, Godwin. I hope I am wrong that I’m anxious. I am uncertain. I am not sure. I am nervous. And I’m passing this nervousness onto the entire state in my writing. I want my readers to feel the nervousness that I feel. This nervousness onto the entire state in my writing. I want my readers to feel the nervousness that I feel. I am nervous that if that moment happens, it won’t be as easy as happening in Chad, as you just said, right? So part of my pursuit is to pass my personal nervousness—that that moment is often panicky, pandemonium-prone, full of competing interests, and fluid. You are not 100% sure that the UPDF is as unified and professional as it claims to be. It’s not as unified or as professional as it claims to be.

So, it’s a small moment that I’m playing with—I’m playing with that moment. Although, for you, I can hear from what I hope you just asked, for the sake of the question, I guess for you, Godwin, if you are content and 100% sure that if anything happened to YKM, we would have a peaceful transition from Museveni to the commander of the armed forces, that is good for the country, right? I really think that would be good for the country—peaceful, right? If you had a peaceful, easy transition where the president dies, and the commander of the armed forces walks from wherever he is normally seated to State House and says on the radio, “I am the next president, please, everything—no more business should continue”—if that is how you feel, then good for you, my brother. And I think I’d be happy to join you.

But I’m so nervous about that moment, right? And I think as a country, we don’t talk about death enough. We don’t talk about that moment enough. We’re not talking about that moment enough. You see, because all our interests now—and I see so much pretense—it really bothers me. I see so much pretense in folks in active politics, that they’re excited about the next election. It bothers me so much that, you know, I don’t know if it’s daydreaming. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or if it’s being too hopeful that somehow, you know, Museveni will defeat himself in an election, and he will give them the seat, and they’ll be sworn in the next day, right?

Folks are gearing up to join parliament, but maybe somehow in parliament, they think they could do something and stabilize the country. I mean, two things here are very pertinent, Godwin. One is the absolute pretense that we don’t see Museveni suddenly coming back to power when he stands in an election. It’s pretentious to believe that. And also, members of parliament who think they can transform this country—that they have the power to do things when they’re in parliament or at any other level—it’s absolute pretense.

Those two things—if you really want to transform this country, if you really have the heart for this country—you wouldn’t be gearing up to stand in the next parliamentary election. Well, if you need some money, it’s okay. You make a lot of it if you win a seat. But if you really have heart for the country, it shouldn’t be a conversation about standing in the next parliamentary election. If you have heart for the country, it shouldn’t be a conversation about preparing for the next election. And you know, you could call me naive.

And I think people in your position are gambling with the idea that if we position ourselves as serious contenders, then if Museveni dies, we are at the table to discuss a government of national unity. I think it’s pretentious, man. I think it’s pretentious. It’s pretentious at so many levels that we are not discussing that nervous moment when we wake up one day, and someone hasn’t just overslept—they’re gone. You know, when I picture a nightmarish future, sometimes I even think it will take six months to have confirmation that Museveni is dead, right? I think it could take six months. Yeah, that’s very possible. 


Godwin: I think up in Ethiopia, something similar happened, but of course, we don’t compare.

Sserunkuma: Because you know, there will be celebration in the city, and I suspect that’s going to happen. We’ll be out. I know, because you know there will be a celebration in the city, and I suspect that’s going to happen. Baganda will be out.

Godwin: Yes, sir. Your line is breaking, yeah? Could you repeat that part where you said Baganda will be out celebrating or something of that kind? Okay. Yusuf? Henry, can you hear Yusuf? Is it me unable to hear you? Is it just—Oh, Yusuf has dropped. Okay, Yusuf, I have invited you again to come back and continue the conversation. I have sent an invitation to speak as well, so that I don’t speak to myself like I’ve just done a few minutes back.

Yeah, for those who have just joined us, we’re having a conversation with academic Yusuf Serunkuma, who is an author, a columnist, and these conversations are a series. We’ve already had four. This is the fifth. In the past, we hosted Andrew Mwenda, we hosted General Mugisha Muntu, Salam Musumba. We’ve also hosted—who is it that I’m missing?—David Mpanga.

Sserunkuma: So this conversation is about a transition, looking at Uganda past the Museveni. The fluidity, the dealing, the pushing and shoving. You know what I mean, Godwin? That if you picture that moment—yeah—and this is why I say we are not having this conversation enough. If I could switch goalposts a little bit and move into—so last week, I made an appeal to Odrek Rwabwogo & Museveni, you know, and I made an appeal to Odrek Rwabwogo Museveni or to people around him, right? They have been writing to people in the deep state that you are harassing the wrong man. He’s the best; he knows the enemy. But away from harassing the wrong man, I’m also now appealing to Odrek Rwabwogo Museveni—maybe not the man himself, but people around him, his close friends. There are things that you can do to secure Uganda, to secure the interests of your friends, but also secure the country, right?

This is the appeal I’m making now, and I want to spend a bit more time on that—maybe some five minutes. I take the example from Daniel arap Moi of Kenya, right? After 24 years in power, he felt like the people around him said to him, “You don’t have to stand again. Give Kenya a chance. Give Kenyans a chance.” Now, for them, 24 years in power felt really long then. 24 years felt like a century to them. They felt they had exhausted everything they could do. Now, for us, we’ve had our man for 38 years. It looks like he feels no exhaustion, right? It’s an interesting thing—he feels no exhaustion.

So I write carefully and non-confrontationally to say that, you know, after 38 years, I don’t think you are smart enough to continue leading the country. Not that you’re stupid, but, you know, you’ve lost the stamina. I mean, you’ve done this when you were 40, 50, 60, 70. Clearly, what you failed to achieve in those almost four decades can’t be achieved when you’re in your fifth or sixth decade. That’s my first appeal—just be aware that, you know, you’ve exhausted your time. If the experiment of Father H.S. is good enough, right? So that’s my first appeal. The second appeal is to think about mortality, which is something we never talk about enough. Think about the possibility that we are all mortals—at some point, we’re going to leave. But I don’t want to dwell on that point so much. So I quickly move to a statement: Securing the interests of the people that you love so much. Cut the posture of a statesman. How do you cut the posture of a statesman? Give us a replacement. From within your circle, appoint somebody while you’re still living to say, “This is my replacement.” And can he campaign and move this country forward without me standing in the next election?

Right? Give Uganda a democratic chance. Give it a democratic chance. Throw so much support behind a particular candidate that you like. You want to comment?

Godwin: Yeah, there are two things. One, there’s been this talk that Museveni will, by design—his own making—as much as possible, prefer to die in office. So if there’s that—and said by so many people, of course—your argument of “talk to the friends” was made, I think, almost a decade or even more back by Kamya, Betty Kamya, while she was still in the opposition. She said, “People around Museveni, you have so much to lose. Talk to this man, let him hand over properly.” And he disregarded them or ignored them. And this is almost over 10 years later, and the same is happening. That is one. So it seems like even if they talk to him, I don’t know if he would listen to them. That is the first thing.

Two, then the question becomes: With that in mind, have we, as Ugandans, pushed Museveni to that point? Two, that Moi was pushed to? Because I know that for Moi, it was not just a case of his friends talking to him. There were all these negotiations as far as Washington.

There were all these late-night calls, the outside pressure showing him that, “You see, this country is much bigger than you.” So it was not really about his friends alone. The friends were probably pushed to that point by the masses first. So do you think Ugandans—me and you and everyone on this space, and those who are not here—have done enough to not just talk to Museveni and his friends but also to push them to the point of saying, “You see, there is so much for us to lose. The whole country is at stake, and we must get this done together, or we lose it all”?

Sserunkuma: Okay. You know, I mean, starting from the point that you made—we don’t have to stop talking, right? And what I realize now is that we have stopped pushing this part of the agenda. You see, that we constantly return to elections is a fact—that we can’t tire from doing the good thing. If we think elections can give the country salvation, then we need to have different fronts. The other front is asking Museveni not to stand in the next election.

We can’t get tired of talking, right? It’s not enough to say, “Well, he ignored this conversation 10 years ago, so we should stop having it.” I think it should come back. The way we say, “We went into the last election so badly lost, or so badly cheated, but we are going to the next one,”—we’re going to the next election. So if we are able to do those things, we can also continue doing these ones as well, right? And what I’m addressing here is that, Godwin, I don’t know how much you see this conversation in the public domain, but I don’t see it. I don’t know how much you see. I don’t see it that much either.

Yeah, but also you’ve got to understand that, you know, he was 70 ten years ago. Now he’s 80. You know, so I think the more reason to have this conversation again. I know you can go up to 90, even 100. I think even in the next 10 years, this conversation has to be had again. Even in the next 10 years, it has to be had again. And then the point that you made—that he’s sworn to die in office. That’s the entire point—that we need to have this conversation, right?

Because I’m saying, if this man dies in office, this country will be thrown into pandemonium, right?That’s the nervousness I seek to address. That if this man dies in office—if this is his wish—how do we, as people in the deep state, his close friends, his wife, his brother, his medicine man, his pastor (if he has one), his children, his relatives who have so much benefited from his presidency—how do they see their interests safeguarded if the man they love so much dies in.

Perhaps that’s a better way to approach the thing, Godwin—when we look at the interests of those around Museveni. That you have interests. You have interests in continuity—of your benefit from this government. But how—how guaranteed are they if this man dies in office?
Because, as somebody who is not part of those people, I see ruin. Not only on their part, but on the part of the country.You see, the people who deposed Siad Barre in Somalia—ruin came to the entire country, not just to those who were part of Siad Barre’s government.

When you look at Sudan now, the ruin of the country is not just to those who were, you know, in Bashir’s cabinet—it’s the entire country. And that’s why I’m saying that, you know, at some point in the life of a country, an autocrat kills every other institution. That he remains the single and most powerful institution that is respected. And where all interests coalesce, right? So what I’m saying is: I think it’s that time that we appeal to this single, only standing institution.

Godwin, I want you to look back. Look around, look around, look around. I’m not sure about the UPDF either, by the way. I think really the UPDF is more divided than we actually know— and more unprofessional than we actually know.It’s just that, you know, something is around, and it’s holding it together. But I think there’s so much simmering anger inside the UPDF. Bits and pieces of it can become visible in different moments, you know? But I don’t know how much trust we have in the judiciary either— that the judiciary can hold Uganda together. You know, we right now have a Chief Justice problem, and a Court Martial problem. I don’t know how much trust we have in Parliament— that Parliament could actually hold Uganda together. I don’t know how much trust we have in Parliament—that Parliament could actually hold Uganda together. I don’t know how much confidence we have in the religious institutions—that they could give us some sense of unity and hold us together in a moment of crisis. Yoweri Museveni has humiliated and cheapened all those institutions. And all those institutions—the judiciary, Parliament, religious institutions, the academia… Look at our friends at Makerere University, where I am based. That institution, you know, back in the days when there was violence in the country, many people ran to Makerere to hide. You can’t do that anymore. Right? Look at Makerere. So what other institution do you look at and say: if calamity struck the only remaining institution, this institution can hold Uganda together?

Godwin: Yeah, I agree with you. I don’t have much confidence in any of those institutions, as you put them—Parliament, the Judiciary, the UPDF. I don’t have any confidence in any of those. And I hope I am wrong, actually. But now, you mentioned the opposition in passing. We are going to get to them later. But just to bring in one particular group of the opposition—that should be the Democratic Party wing led by Chairman Norbert Mao, who is now the Minister for Justice and Constitutional Affairs. So he makes a Memorandum of Understanding with the ruling party, the NRM, and says this is for the good of the country. “I’m going to start a conversation on transition and the future of this country after Museveni.”

Of course, before him there were the UPC people. We don’t know what kind of arrangement they also had. But the UPC, Betty Kamya’s wing of the Uganda Federal Alliance, and now the Democratic Party—for all intents and purposes—fairly within government and square. Is that a good way to go about it? Can NUP, for instance, say, “Let us go and meet Museveni, we negotiate our way out of this maze that we find ourselves in as a country, and then we can deal with the aftermath when that time comes?” Or is that something you just don’t have confidence in?

Sserunkuma: So I need to say a couple of things here. My contention is not negotiation. I’m not a negotiator, right? I am not for negotiations—because for people to negotiate, it means there are two confronting powers, two diametrically opposed powers, and they have to sit at the table, negotiate, and find a solution. I am not into negotiations. That’s point number one. Point number two: I believe reform has to be internal, not external. I am confident—this is my position—that for Museveni to see change of course, the only way this is going to happen, it will have to be internally driven, not external.

A force from outside is not going to force Museveni to change course. That’s daydreaming.
Because a force from outside—and I mean people in the opposition—they present a confrontational position. They present a threat to him. They are a threat. So I am not into “a transition” or signing Memoranda of Understanding. No, no, no. That’s not my position. I’m not into cutting deals.

Godwin: Ironically, the argument is that they go into government, and then they become internal—and because they’re internal, they can engineer the change from within.

Sserunkuma: No. Nobody now remains the president of the DP—which is an opposition party, okay? But let me—Godwin, let me develop this fully. When I say internal, I don’t mean inside the NRM. I don’t mean inside government.No, I don’t mean that either. Museveni sees NRM and people in government as opportunists. He knows that 100%. He doesn’t see them as people who love him because of what he has done for Uganda. He sees them as there to eat. He knows that. He sees them as a threat. You think Museveni respects anybody in the NRM, or even anybody in government?
He sees them as his workers—but who, at any one time, can turn against him. He sees them as a threat. So once you go in government, Museveni knows you’re an opportunist. He’s not an idiot. He doesn’t think you’re there because you love him. He knows you’re there because of opportunistic intentions. So that’s the point: I’m not into negotiation. Not into cutting deals. This is why my appeal is to people who don’t appear as a threat to Yoweri Kaguta Museveni. And that’s also why I don’t even know them. Godwin, I don’t even know these people I’m appealing to. But those people don’t appear as a threat. Museveni fully understands that—let me say—his wife… You know, I don’t know how good they are with his wife. Because sometimes our wives are a threat. I don’t know how good they are. But let’s assume—it’s his wife.If his wife said to him: “Look, we need to maybe think about the other interests of people around us—people that we love, our kindred, our friends, our relatives—we need to think about them. I think Gen Muhoozi is not being perceived as a threat to him. You see? Maybe his son— I don’t know the exact terms of their relationship— But maybe even his son is not seen as a threat. You see, whoever comes in negotiating, cutting deals,
they always cut the posture of authority over Museveni. And that’s exactly when he becomes unwilling to listen. So this is why I’m saying: change is internal. And by internal, I mean a very, very small circle of internal. People who are invisible to the public—folks such as those in the deep state, folks such as those who pray with Museveni. Museveni doctors—the ones he allows to cut into his skin to remove a tumor. You see? Those he trusts.
So I’m talking about people like that. That’s what I mean by internal. I don’t mean people like Norbert Mao and many others. So that’s what I mean by the internal circle that should be appealed to.

Godwin: Good. You want to comment on this one? Because I think I’ve exhausted that.

Sserunkuma:Yeah.

Godwin: So if I can now ask the thing that I wanted to bring up…And the language is not negotiation. The language of negotiation… no.The language is: talk.Say:
“Yusuf, do we still have you?”

Sserunkuma: I am here.

Godwin: Okay, you can continue.

Sserunkuma: Okay, did you hear the point I made? I said—when I mean change has to be internal, I mean this:The language is not negotiating.
The language is not signing memoranda of understanding.

No.

The language is:
“Let’s talk to this man.”
Say:
“Give Uganda a chance.”
“Please give us a democratic chance.”
“We love you so much.”
“You cut the posture of a statesman.”

Godwin: Okay, you’re still here, right? 

Sserunkuma: But look, you’ve already done the most dangerous thing—you gave him a seat. You gave him space. You gave him the illusion that he can stand on the side. That’s more dangerous than anything else. That posture—of giving space—that’s what we need to cut. Not this nonsense of “let’s negotiate, let’s all come to the table.” Come to the table on what terms? There’s no table. No ground for negotiation. None.

You remember this thing they called “national dialogue?” Godwin, do you recall? 

Godwin: Yeah, yeah, you heard about it, huh? I did too. I heard about it. A dialogue. 

Sserunkuma: That’s cute. But listen—for Museveni to enter a dialogue, he must first see the reason. He must ask himself, what do I lose if I don’t talk to these people who think they’re a threat to me? Nothing. What do I gain if I talk to them? Nothing. Either way, he loses nothing, and he gains nothing. So what’s the incentive? That’s the thing. You see, dialogue assumes there’s a mutual need. A mutual fear. Or at least a mutual loss. But Museveni? Ha! He sees no threat in not talking. He loses nothing by ignoring everyone. And even if he talks? Still, he gains nothing. That’s why this “national dialogue” talk? It’s hot air. On what terms are you dialoguing with a man who sees no cost in silence? He’s the boss. He knows it. Whether he speaks to you or he doesn’t—he remains the boss. Dialogue, Godwin, happens between equals. People who stand to lose something by not talking to each other. A neighbor, a rival, a co-owner. But if I stand to lose nothing? Why would I bother? Museveni? He says: no loss in talking to nobody. You get me?

Godwin: Let me pause you there. Because if the people who should be forcing that dialogue, the ones who are supposed to engineer that conversation—if they are not doing it—then there’s only one other group we have to consider. And we always criticize them. The opportunists. Call them that if you want. But I’m talking about the people from the West—and not the West of this country, I mean the West of the world.
You said it earlier. Museveni is their servant. Their most loyal servant. You referenced Moi, Kenya, yes—and I agree. A lot of those negotiations didn’t happen in Nairobi. They happened in Washington, London, Paris. That’s where the real rooms are. That’s where real decisions get made. Now let’s be selfish. Post-Museveni. Not just for us here in Uganda—but for them too. For their interests. Minerals, trade, banking, telecoms—you name it. Can we get them to help us start the real conversation? Because as far as Museveni is concerned, there’s no conversation even beginning.

Sserunkuma: But here’s the dilemma. Museveni has proved to be their best servant. Right now, yes, he’s embarrassing. But he remains the best. Embarrassing, yes—he kills people, he signs ugly laws, he bombs palaces—but still, the best.2021? He slaughtered people on the streets of Kampala. Disgraceful. He bombed a palace in Kasese. Shameful. But even with all that, they’re still hanging on to him. They still love him. Why? Because across the continent, no one has served them better than Museveni. No one. Yes, he’s a mess. He’s a PR nightmare. But in DRC? He served them. In Somalia? He served them. Rwanda, Afghanistan, you name it. The refugee problem? Oh, he’s been a godsend. The Mzungu doesn’t want Black people showing up in Europe. Museveni? He said, “Bring them here. Uganda is open.” Imagine that.

He gave them peacekeeping troops, refugees, market access, minerals, military bases, surveillance tools—he gave them everything. The man has bent backwards in every way possible. So yes, Godwin—they all know. 120 percent, they know—Museveni is their best. Even when he embarrasses them, they’d rather keep him than risk someone who might actually believe in sovereignty. And that, my brother, is the trap. You see, with all he has done for them, when Mzungu comes here, they are shocked—amazed, actually—at just how much they can get away with in Uganda. And that’s because Museveni has done a spectacular job for Mzungu. Truly. He’s the best they’ve ever had on the continent. No question.

So now we are in a dilemma. A real bind. Because appealing to Mzungu? It doesn’t work. They’ve not yet found a replacement. And they have urgent crises to deal with. Refugees, for example. Museveni just told them: Bring all of them. Uganda is open. Everyone is welcome. Meanwhile, he’s sending mercenaries to Afghanistan. Holding the fort in Somalia. Holding the fort in South Sudan. In DRC? He’s even building roads for them. I’m telling you—he is the best they have.Even William Ruto, who’s busy flirting with Mzungu, they still tell him, “Go to Oman first.” You’re not yet close enough. You’re not Museveni. That’s the man we’re dealing with. So this idea of running to Mzungu first? No. He’s their man. So we have to appeal to this man. I know—it sounds bizarre. It sounds disgusting even. Godwin, I hate to say this, but at this point? We need to plead with Museveni. I don’t like how that feels. It leaves a bad taste. But where we are now? That’s our only route. We need to present our plea as something in his self-interest. Does that make sense?

Yeah, yeah, it does. It must be framed as something for his legacy, for his grandchildren. Something he can own. Because he’s the one we have to deal with. And you know, one thing Museveni understood very early: if you want to stay in power in Uganda, you have to be best friends with the European establishment. Museveni governs in Uganda, yes—but he governs on their behalf too.

Godwin: Now, let me bring in a third group. Another class of power we don’t often talk about directly. The Asian minority. You and I have discussed this before. You once argued they were not the colonialists, but the sub-colonialists. There’s even a whole book calling Uganda an Indian colony. Their role in the economy is staggering. One figure says they control up to 75% of Uganda’s non-food GDP. That figure, of course, is contested. Some say they don’t own the wealth—they’re just tax collectors. That they pick taxes from us and pay up to the powers above. But the facts remain—they’ve held a critical space, and they were a very big issue in the 70s. So now, in 2025, with a president turning 80, and everything around him shaking and uncertain—where do they fall in all this? Are they as worried as we are? Do they see the coming storm? Do they fear that history might repeat itself, that it might slide back into a 70s scenario—which, I assume, was very unpleasant for them? And yes, —I know, you’ve argued before that the 70s weren’t all unpleasant for them. That there were advantages. That’s another debate. But still—where are they in the Museveni succession equation?

Sserunkuma: Now, about that 75% figure—you’re right, I’ve seen it quoted. But I don’t know if tax collection in Uganda even records ethnicity anymore. When URA comes to your shop, I doubt they ask for your tribe or race. So we have to treat that figure carefully.

Godwin: But let’s forget the number. Let’s focus on the reality: There is a powerful economic minority in Uganda. Many of them not indigenous Ugandans. Where do they stand in the transition?

Sserunnkuma: And here’s the thing. Museveni has flung open the gates to investors. Everyone is coming. Indians, Pakistanis, all sorts. Many of these are legitimate business people. They’re not chopping forests or grabbing land. They’re not stealing resources. They’re running restaurants. Supermarkets. Driving boda bodas even. But then, there’s a select group—the elite circle. The land tycoons. The ones who appear in Parliament. There’s a man with 700 land titles—Mount Adida story. That’s a different breed altogether. That’s a proper front-line class. Still, I wouldn’t say they’re as visible now as they were in the 70s. Not in the same way. They don’t come off as the symbolic extractors of African wealth anymore. They’re quieter now. Low-key. Like—you can name one or two: maybe Sudhir Rupayelia, who owns a few prominent things. But the rest? They own the invisible economy.

Banking? Telecoms? Hard to say who’s behind them. Remember, the last big Indian bank here was Crane Bank. It’s gone. So the new thieves in banking, if you want to call them that, don’t wear turbans. And in telecoms, it’s murky. So yeah—they’re here, they’re present, they’re powerful—but they’re not loud. They’re watching. And probably hedging their bets. Because they too know that when power shifts in Uganda, it shifts violently. I mean telecoms we don’t know who they are I mean all these are possibly from South Africa and from the UK I mean the mining sector I’m not sure you can say the gold mining is Indians coffee trade is Indian it’s not is you can’t say that today as it were then because then these people dominated every single aspect of the economy it’s not it’s not as explicit as it is today right and I don’t mean to downplay their position but it’s not as explicit as it was today in fact I’m imagining in in our next crisis they could be ignored if if calamity struck Museveni.

 I would argue they could be ignored that’s point number one but then point number two they still have a buffer right they still have a buffer that the people who have you know propped Museveni into the presidency are their masters to one of the deals that Museveni negotiated when taking the presidency with the the our former colonizers was to return properties paid for by Idi Amin back to the Indians that’s one of the deals he negotiated and he has been doing that and the Indians know it and they and the UK knows it so they they still have a buffer they still have their good father in the UK right they still have their good father in the international community that if anything happened if anything happened the next president will still have to negotiate this conversation with the same god fathers will have to you know make sure that the interest are protected at the same time.

I’m not saying it’s gonna be really easy but I’m saying they still have the buffer but you know they are here protected by Museveni when taking power in 1986 right so that would be my response to that okay.

Godwin: now I get the gist of your argument that Museveni has failed to the success and all that how would that play out when would you know that was even has chosen a successor what are the signs you look out for and all the success. It looks like this time you have done the right thing you have picked this person and we can move on with this it doesn’t have to be like like a puzzle you know it doesn’t be a crossword puzzle to figure out that is this now the part of the success or not some have to explicitly come out and say I am not standing and so and so should stand or so and so 

Speaker:
I’m resigning, so I should take power and organize an election in the next two or three years—right? That’s the point. It doesn’t have to be some cryptic crossword puzzle. We need clarity. The uncertainty must end. This is my plea.

I’m not saying this process should turn into a guessing game—where we start gambling on who’s been appointed, who’s received the blessings, who’s being positioned. That kind of ambiguity only breeds speculation, anxiety, nervousness, and national uncertainty.

What we need now is for President Museveni to cut the posture of a statesman. He still has that chance. Thanks to his political genius—yes, genius—he’s eliminated all other competing institutions. He is now the only bull left in the kraal. And because of that, he alone has the opportunity to rise above politics and behave like a statesman. We need him to do this clearly, explicitly—not in ways that leave the country second-guessing or wondering whether the person being groomed has the mettle to lead. That’s what I mean. I’m not suggesting that he should appoint his son as Vice President so that we all start gambling again, wondering what that means. No. It shouldn’t be a crossword puzzle. The message must be clear. That way, we can deal with our national anxiety and nervousness. 

Let’s be honest: nobody is going to beat Museveni in the next election—not under the current setup. But we don’t know if we’ll even make it to that next election. So the appeal here is this: let Museveni come out and say, “I’m giving the NRM a chance to select another candidate. I will not express interest in standing again.” Then the NRM would be free to rally behind this new candidate. The candidate would go out, campaign, and have the full backing of the system. I’m not calling for sainthood. But we must move away from signs, speculation, and coded language. That only prolongs our collective nervousness.

And that nervousness? It’s not just among us, the wanainchi. The uncertainty affects international interests, the military, and other critical stakeholders. The more we are kept in this fog of ambiguity, the worse it is—for the country, for the military, for Museveni’s own interests. If he ever comes around—and I hope he does—and says, “I now want to be a statesman,” then let that be said clearly. As clearly as it can be. That’s all we ask.

Godwin: Earlier, you mentioned the opposition and disagreed with the idea of running for office as the main way to address the transition. So, if you were the leading opposition figure in Uganda today, what would your strategy be to further the conversation on post-Museveni transition?

Sserunkuma:
I don’t want to play that game. I don’t want to imagine myself as the leading opposition figure, because that forces you to take a confrontational posture—and I don’t want that. Right now, we should be focusing on competing in a post-Museveni political space. That’s where the future lies. I’m not interested in fighting Museveni. Even if I were the leading opposition figure, that would be an imagined kind of power. The reality is, even with that role, you’d still need to beg Museveni for space, for permission. I’m trying to position myself as someone who sees the danger ahead. Someone who understands the uncertainty of what’s coming. I’m not saying we should boycott Museveni’s elections—I’m not a boycotter. What I’m saying is, we need an equally powerful counterforce. We need to convince Museveni and those around him that it’s in their best interest to safeguard Uganda’s democracy. That it’s good for his legacy, good for his friends’ survival, and good for the country. That’s the kind of force I want to represent. Do you understand me, Godwin?

Godwin:
Yes, I do.

Sserunkuma: If Museveni isn’t on the ballot in the next election, I would consider running. That would be a true opportunity to reset the country. We could finally have real conversations about Uganda’s future without constantly circling back to Museveni. Right now, everything—every institution—is frozen in place, waiting for Museveni to speak. Parliament, the judiciary, the police—everyone holds their breath, waiting for his next move.

Godwin:
So the whole country is in limbo, waiting for one man to decide what happens next. The deep state, his inner circle—they’re the ones pulling the strings. And we need to break free from that.

Sserunkuma:
Exactly. It’s not right. It’s not necessary. We shouldn’t run a country like this, with everything held hostage to one person’s decisions.

Godwin: Alright, I think your point has landed. Let’s open the floor to the audience. You’ll each have a minute to ask a question or make a comment—no greetings please, just go straight to the point. Let’s get started.Godwin Toko: Patrick, confirm that you can hear me?

Patrick: Yeah.

Godwin Toko: And I request that you make Agatha the co-host and you make Charles the speaker. So that, um—it’s the other way around, eh? Just make Charles the speaker and then Agather the co-host. I see she’s already here. Yeah, so for those who have just joined us, we are happy to have you here. Today, we are going to have a conversation with the celebrated journalist, um, Charles Onyango Obbo. I know this is not a new name to most of you, whether it be on the streets of Twitter, Daily Monitor, The East African. Um, the tremendous work he has done, especially in journalism—the writings and all that—are out there for everyone to see. So we are going to have a conversation with him on a question that we’ve had discussions on with quite a number of people now. This is the sixth edition. Just to remind you, we’ve had one with Andrew Mwenda—quite a journalist. We had one with, um, General Mugisha Muntu, the former army commander and presidential aspirant, and the head—they call him, I think, the national mobilizer for the Alliance for National Transformation. We had one with Salamu Musumba. We had one with Daudi Mpanga. And then last week, we had one with Yusuf Serunkuma, the academic.

And like I said last week, this is something that we’re taking very seriously. You may want to stay longer for these conversations because we’re trying to have people like the celebrated former minister of Museveni, feminist, politician, elder, and so many things—Miria Matembe—and people along those lines.

So we shall be asking each of them the same question: what their view is on Uganda’s transition and how that can play out.

Again, Patrick, kindly make—ah, I see Charles is now a speaker.

So, I’ll just be waiting for Agather in a few minutes, and then we can get the conversation underway.

Now, how we structure these conversations is that they are broken into segments. The first segment will involve a question-and-answer session with the guest. That runs for about an hour and a half. Then after that segment, we’ll bring in the audience, where any of you can participate—be it through a question, a comment, um, whichever way you want to participate, as long as you do it within the time stipulated so that many other people can also contribute. That segment will come later.

Occasionally, we also have other spaces about issues happening in the country. We didn’t have one this week, but we’re also running a campaign on Uganda’s prisons. And, uh, the litmus test is really showing a lot of negative signs. Our prisons seem to be the third most crowded in the world, after the Republic of Congo and Cambodia, with as much as 360-plus percent overcrowding.

Prison cells built for as few as 25 people are now holding as many as 190-something people. Those are very grim statistics. Now, for that conversation, we are likely to have a space of this nature next week on Tuesday. You may want to look out for that.

So, Patrick, I see Agather is back. Can you make her a speaker so that she can start us off with the conversation? I see Charles is already a speaker. Maybe I could just engage Charles on his microphone.

Godwin Toko: Good evening, Charles. Can you hear me?

Onyango Obbo: Yes, I can.

Godwin Toko: Great. We are really glad to have you, and we look forward to a very, very insightful speech and conversation with you today.

Onyango Obbo: Oh, uh, don’t bank on it, but…

Godwin Toko: No, there—there are risks you take with a lot of confidence, and that’s one of the risks I’m willing to take with a lot of confidence today.

Okay, so I see Agather is here. Agather, please, you could start us off if you’re ready.

Agather: Hi, um, I was thinking we give like three minutes for people to join in. Let me send—let me send the link to people that have asked for it. Then we start at, um, five minutes past.

You can play for us your not-very-nice reggae music in the meantime.

Godwin Toko: Okay, let me look for one that—uh, let me look for one that is not so bad, yo. Hope I find one.

Agather: Okay.

Godwin Toko: Hi. Yes, we can start.

Agather: Good evening, listeners. Good evening, Charles. Thank you for being with us. I know that we had to really, really sort of coerce you. Thank you for finally agreeing to be with us on this space. I don’t know—do you want to first greet the listeners, and then we start? Charles, can you hear me?

Godwin: His microphone is muted. I don’t know… just in case he’s speaking.

Agather: Hi, so as we’re getting started—our guest has already been introduced by Godwin Toko. He’s a veteran journalist who has been around in journalism for as long as the NRA man, President Museveni, has also been around. We thought that we need to hear from people like him—people who have been here long enough—about the prospects of transition in this country.

How does it look? What is at stake, or what do they think is at stake? But also, how has the NRA government under President Museveni evolved, as they have seen it?

So, let’s confirm if Charles is with us and if he can hear us.

Agather: Charles?

Godwin: Maybe we just have to reach out to him. I see his microphone is still muted.

Okay, as Agather reaches out to Charles—for those who just joined us, I’ll have to remind you that this is the sixth of a series of similar conversations we’ve had about the transition question in Uganda right now.

Of course, for those who may not be aware—perhaps those who are not from Uganda—we’ve had the same president since 1986. On Sunday this week, that president will mark 39 years in power—uninterrupted.

Thirty-nine years in power, the same political party. I think about 80% of Ugandans now were born after he became president. So, it’s really a big percentage of the country that knows only one president.

But of course, this president has defied so many things. A lot of political norms have been defied. Not many gave him a chance to stay in power for this long. But one thing he almost certainly cannot defy is biology. Now, he doesn’t seem to have the energy he had back then. And of course, like every human being, that raises some questions:

Where does Uganda go from here?

We’ve seen African countries that had very, very strong and powerful leaders in the past. Whether you talk of our neighbor just one country away—Sudan—whether it be Kenya in the 80s and 90s, whether it be Libya, Zimbabwe under Mugabe… Eventually, there comes a time when there has to be a shift—a movement away from that particular president.

And if you look at it critically, some of those cases have ended badly.

Yes, Charles, you’re here now?

Godwin: Charles, I see your microphone was briefly unmuted, and then it got muted again. Okay, yeah, so I was saying—if you look at many of these countries, sometimes things can easily go south. Sudan is now in a full-fledged civil war. I just noticed that in the apartment where I stay, probably now there are more Sudanese neighbors than there were at this time last year. That’s how quickly things can change.

Libya is also a nation that is completely messed up. Kenya somehow survived that trap—it has its own problems, but at least it didn’t have a very serious breakdown after the Moi era. Zimbabwe, however, seems to have moved from one bad place to another bad place.

So now, the question becomes: How does Uganda navigate this? How do we move past the current president but also ensure that, like Kenya, we don’t end up where Sudan is, or where Libya is, or even where Zimbabwe is under Mnangagwa?

These are the questions we’ve been asking.

So far, we’ve had five different people weigh in on this discussion. And for those who may not have tuned in, each of those conversations was recorded. If you search the Agora Twitter handle, you can find a link to each of those discussions and listen at your own time.

The very first conversation we had was with another journalist—Andrew Mwenda. Then we had one with lawyer Daudi Mpanga. Then we had another with Salam Musumba, a respected politician in her own right, a former Member of Parliament, and so many other things. Then we spoke with General Mugisha Muntu, who led the army at the age of 27, and who is now a presidential candidate.

I think I just have to send Charles an invitation to speak—I see he has dropped off as a speaker.

Okay, I think he’ll get back on. I’ve sent him a message, but he hasn’t responded yet, so I can give him a call and see what’s up.

Godwin: Please do that. I see he has actually entirely dropped off the space.

Agather: Oh yes, I can see that on my side.

Godwin: Okay, because he turned into a listener, and then he was off. Just check with him.

Agather: Okay.

Godwin: Yeah, so like I was saying, Uganda has this history. And perhaps that’s why we’re having these conversations.We’ve had Yusuf Serunkuma, Andrew Mwenda, Daudi Mpanga, Salam Musumba, and General Mugisha Muntu. So, this is the sixth conversation. The good thing is, each of these conversations is recorded. That means you can listen to them at your own convenient time and hear what each of these guests had to say. And we pledge that this is not going to be the last one. God willing, as long as we have life, as long as we are all here, and as long as what happened in Sudan last night—where social media has been banned entirely for three months—doesn’t happen here, we’ll have another conversation.Hopefully next week, we’ll invite another elder—someone who has been here, seen it, lived through it—and they’ll share their perspective on how Uganda can transition from one president to another while avoiding the turmoil that Sudan, Zimbabwe, and Libya have experienced.

Yes, and we also hold regular conversations on other issues. Like I mentioned earlier, we are likely to have a panel on Uganda’s prisons next week on Tuesday. We are putting together a panel—including someone from the prison system—

Agather: Hi, so I’m still trying to get hold of Charles. He says he got kicked out and can’t join again

Onyango Obbo: I’m Charles Onyango Obbo. I’m a Ugandan journalist and writer, and I’m based in Nairobi.

Godwin: Is that enough?

Onyango Obbo: Yeah, that can do.

Godwin: Like I said, I don’t think that’s a formality. Not many people here don’t know who you are, really.

Onyango Obbo: Yes, and I’ve known you for a long time.

Godwin: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Quite a long time.

So, I’m going to start with the first question. You’ve lived through this—probably the entire NRM regime. Yeah. If I could just ask you, what has changed? If you look at the NRM, could you give us a picture? I mean, I was born several years into the NRM reign. From the time it started to where we are now, what has changed? First, within the NRM, and then, what has changed about Uganda in the time that NRM has been in charge?

Onyango Obbo: Well, as Mahmood Mamdani says, the NRM phenomenon was a very, very consequential historical event in Uganda. And I think we need to recognize that from the outset. When it came to power, it was really a catch-all movement. It represented many things to many people. It was a progressive movement. It also had a very traditionalist and conservative core. And to many, it represented hope.

But it was also a bit of a problem because, at that point, there was a Southern hegemonic element to it. So, you know, certain parts of the country—particularly the Northwest—I think West Nile was different—were very uncertain about it. They were fearful. But fundamentally, the NRM was able to solve, at least for the South and East, major issues of security. It built the economy. It brought a sense of national pride. I’ll give you an example. I remember around 1991, I was traveling in Southern Africa. I went from Malawi to Zimbabwe. When I presented my passport at immigration, the officer saw that it was a Ugandan passport. He just held me for several minutes, asking me to tell him the Ugandan story. A queue was forming, but he was so engrossed in hearing about Uganda. Then he realized the queue was too long, so he handed me back my passport and told me to go. I reminded him that he hadn’t stamped it, and I would have problems. Then he stamped it and let me go. That just shows you what the NRM phenomenon was in the early years—not just in Uganda but in the region and across Africa.

But then something happened. Certain shifts occurred—either by design or as unintended consequences. Slowly, the NRM—or more precisely, the civilian presidency of the Ugandan state—changed into a feudal state. Now, what are the elements of a feudal state? In a feudal state, the household is not just a family; it becomes a political unit. The lords, their wives, sons, daughters, and extended family members all play roles in governance—whether in administration, the judiciary, the economy, or the military. The family estate becomes the center of power. The NRM does not see itself this way. But in reality, structurally, it has become a feudal state. And really, everything that has happened since then stems from that fundamental structural change. Thank you.

Godwin: At this point, the NRM turning from what you described earlier into a feudal state—if you could pinpoint a moment, when did that shift happen?

Onyango Obbo: In many ways, I think it started happening around 1994 when the process for making the new constitution began. There had to be several political realignments, and the war in the north also produced a very strange dynamic.

There was a fear—the fear of the return of northern rule. Remember, Alice Lakwena and her Holy Spirit Movement had advanced as far as Kapeeka. That specter of what was called “northern rule” in the south created a very reactionary form of politics. Within the more conservative and reactionary wing of the NRM—at that time still the NRA—there were discussions about Uganda “ending at the Karuma line” and other exclusionary ideas. So, the response to the northern threat, first represented by Lakwena and later by Joseph Kony, bred a very reactionary and unpleasant form of politics.

Godwin: Okay, Patrick, please make Agather co-host in the meantime. Now, we have a scenario where the president has been in power for close to four decades—on Sunday, it will be 39 years. For context, in Africa, there are only three presidents currently in office who have led longer than that: Obiang of Equatorial Guinea, Biya of Cameroon, and Nguesso of the Republic of Congo. When President Museveni took over, he made speeches about fundamental change. Looking back, at any point, did you see signs that pointed to where we are now? A president ruling for this long and backtracking on so many of the things he promised at the beginning?

Onyango Obbo: Yes. At the end of February, a new book by Mahmood Mamdani on Uganda will be published. I don’t think there has ever been a book like it, and probably never will be again. I think people should look forward to it as it explores this phenomenon in depth. There were two things. First, Museveni had a certain messianic element to him. That was always clear. And when someone comes as a messiah, there is always a greater risk that the story ends where we are now rather than with a more glorious political transition.  Secondly, there has been a long-standing critique of Uganda’s political evolution. Yash Tandon, around 1988, wrote an important book that examined Uganda’s history—covering the UNLF, the UPM, FRONASA, and all those movements.

He argued that we were in a period of continuity rather than a break from the past. His analysis was compelling.Interestingly, the Tanzanians—who Museveni admired in the 1970s—always had the view that he would turn out to be a “tribal chief,” in their words.

At the time, in the late 1980s and 1990s, that was difficult to believe. But looking back, their reading was probably much more accurate.

Godwin: Okay, Agather, you’re going to come in. Can I just ask a follow-up before you pick it up? So, the other thing—following up on that, Charles—we are now a nation of about 45 million people. Back then, we were maybe 14 or 16 million. Uganda has so many tribes and conflicting realities. Before Museveni, presidents lasted six months or just a few years. Yet, he has cracked the code and ruled longer than all his predecessors combined. What made Museveni different? What allowed him to hold power for this long in a country where no leader before him had managed such longevity?

Onyango Obbo: There are really three things. First, historically, we have seen in Africa and elsewhere that leaders who come to power at the head of a liberation movement tend to stay in power for a very long time. The reason is that it takes an extraordinary level of political talent to get people to accept dying for you. And I think many of Museveni’s critics underestimate that about him. The second thing is that Museveni is an incredibly talented strategic thinker. If you watch him and talk to people close to him, Museveni never fights today’s battles today. The things he’s doing today, he laid the groundwork for those battles five years ago. So, he is always significantly ahead of his adversaries.

In many ways, that was the premium he brought to the bush war. It wasn’t so much about his bravery, but rather his strategic thinking.

Also, if you look at Ugandan society, since 1966, at any given time, a part of Uganda has been going through a traumatic experience. If you step back and look at the bigger picture, Uganda has lived under extreme violence or repression for nearly 60 years. The people’s spirit is really broken. It might not always be obvious, but beneath the surface, people are exhausted. Sixty years is a long time. And to a leader who understands this, people are quicker to settle for small things—like peace, the ability to grow potatoes and sell them in the marketplace. After decades of trauma, people are more willing to bargain at a very low price for stability.

Godwin: Agather, you can pick it up from there.

Agather: Okay, thank you, Godwin. Thank you, Charles. I think I got lost trying to find my way back into the space. But yes, this discussion is important. By the way, today is my birthday. I didn’t plan to be working at 7 p.m., but here we are.So, I am 37 years old today. My mother got pregnant with me more than a year after Museveni came to power. Now, I have a son who will be sitting for P7 this year. In all that time, my generation was born and has now produced our own children—all while living under the same government. Right now, you can see how that reality is agitating people. During the 2017 debate on removing the age limit, your friend—or maybe your mentee—argued that age was not the issue, citing examples of Italian and American leaders. But I don’t think Ugandans’ problem is age. It’s the fact that, for the first time, we want to move from one president to another without bloodshed, without conflict, without war. The framers of the 1995 Constitution thought they had put safeguards in place. But now, those safeguards are gone. What do you think about that? And what next?

Onyango Obbo: First, I agree with Mwende. The problem with Uganda’s political situation today is not Museveni’s age. It is his political longevity. Even if he were 45 or 60 today, the same issues would still apply. Secondly, if you look at the 1995 Constitution, it did not actually put any real safeguards. You can mention term limits and the age limit, but those were just constraints on executive power. They were not a transition mechanism. Real transitions usually happen outside of legal frameworks—within political parties, political culture, and unwritten norms. Some countries write these into their constitutions, but Uganda did not. Now, how do we avoid a bloody transition?

Many people accuse Museveni of trying to create a dynasty—of wanting to hand power to his son, Muhoozi Kainerugaba.Muhoozi, like any Ugandan, has the right to run for president, as long as he is not privileged over others. But Museveni is very aware of these things. He is trying to manage the transition, even if many disagree with his approach. And remember, Museveni never relies on just one option. He always has multiple strategies in play. If you talk to different people, you will find that he has at least three or four potential succession plans. The one around Muhoozi gets the most public attention, but I don’t think it’s the most important one. Museveni has never been the kind of leader to stake everything on just one plan. So, the real question is: which of his plans will succeed?

Agather: Okay, so let’s talk about Museveni’s ideas. Are we a nation simply at the mercy of Museveni’s ideas? Are his ideas aligned with the interests of Ugandans? Or is there something Ugandans can do instead of waiting on Museveni?

Onyango Obbo: There are a lot of small groups which are working on this. I think that the way these things are happening, they can’t be linear. If you take, for example, the transition in Kenya in 2002, it was complex and messy and, you know, I mean, in the run-up to the election, it was not scripted, you know, a lot of pieces just fall together, and I think that that is what the, you know, the Ugandan situation will be.

Now, whether it is in Uganda’s interest or not, I think that for, you know, the—I mean, if you think of it, Museveni doesn’t really have a responsibility to do the big thing in Ugandan interest at this point. So it is only to be expected that he would pursue a line which is very narrowly in his interest and, secondly, you know, that of, you know, the NRM. So, you know, it’s—as a country, we shouldn’t invest any currency in the question of whether Museveni will do something good for the country. Politicians don’t behave like that around these, you know, transition issues. Usually, those forces come from the outside, that they push them in certain directions, are able to input into the process. So, for example, in the case of Moi, if it was not the, you know, people like Saleh Kosgei, who were, you know, who are, you know—who was kind of a PS, a powerful PS, and close to him—if it was not certain religious leaders who were, you know, very close to him, you know, the story of this country would have been different. So it’s the combination of those internal actors within his party, in his court, together with the pressure of the democracy movement that then produced change. And I think that that is likely where Uganda will go. But I think that a script—a Museveni script in the big Ugandan interest that then, you know, delivers us, you know, to the promised land—I think that is unlikely to happen.

Agather: Okay, so many people that we have interacted with thought they had seen him as a liberator when he and his NRM came to power in 1986, and that he had so much goodwill, and that they had thought the Ten Point Program and everything that was on it would be implemented to the core. You have had run-ins with this government, and by run-ins I mean you have court cases in the early 1990s about freedom of expression, so to speak. How do you think President Museveni’s era has evolved? Was it any better at any point, or was it the same, but people were not yet maybe open to what was going on?

Onyango Obbo:
You know, I take a very sanguine view of the battles that we had, because, you know, from my side I always expected that the state would fight back, so that the things, you know, that we got into the trouble that we did—I think it would have been a greater surprise to me if we didn’t. So, you know, it’s just the nature of the beast. That, uh, that they will do that, but, uh, you know, um, it’s—it’s because in the early years, um, you know, uh, Museveni and NRM were—were so dominant. It’s—it’s—it seems ironic. I mean, despite those issues that we had, it was really a fairly good time, you know, for—for media. There was a lot more space for critical journalism because at that time, when you didn’t have an opposition, the—the state, the NRM state, needed an independent media.

And at that time, the argument was that we don’t need an opposition because the work that is done, uh, by the opposition, and the proof that Uganda is—is—is actually a multi-party society, is that it has many voices. And the minimum, you know—and that is most evident in the fact that you have a free press. So there was a certain system—a system, um, both cynical and, you know, big—big picture, uh, strategic necessity—to have a free press. So it was actually a good period.And—and then, I think, when, uh, particularly—and—and this is the thing—when Kizza Besigye contested, uh, against him in 2001, I mean, we—everything just blew up. That changed everything.

So, uh, so, you know, I say that—so I said in 1994 we started seeing the change. We went through a very glorious period between 1996 and around 1999. Those were incredible three years. And—and, you know, then the Besigye thing came and has never, uh—I mean, it’s been downward from, uh, you know, from there on.

Agather: So, you—you are saying that, um, even—even if you had those issues, uh, when you were at the Daily Monitor, the space was much better than it is now? And—and freedom of expression was more respected than—than now?

Onyango Obbo: Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know, you know, Museveni would come—he would come even to the Capital Gang and he would engage in intellectual combat. So—so—so it’s—it’s, uh, and—and he—he was—he was very confident in, uh, in his, uh, in his political scheme. And, uh, they—they, you know—and I think, you know, the external threat—there was one time Museveni went to, uh—I don’t know, do they call it that area called Muzik? I don’t know what it’s called these days, somewhere along that road. And—and, you know, he couldn’t—he had to—he couldn’t drive through. So he had to abandon his car and basically couldn’t walk through the crowd. You know, the people demanded to carry him. Can you imagine today? Today, for him to go to that part of the city, he would need a brigade.

Agather: What do you think has changed?

Onyango Obbo: 
It’s—it’s, uh, you know, I think, you know, people really feel let down. Um, you know, that kind of—kind of the NRM concessions has broken down. Um, you know, the—you know, the goodies that, uh, that the people were getting—they are no longer getting. And like I said earlier, you know, it became—it has become a very narrow feudal, um, state. And so, you know, people feel excluded. They feel used and abused. And, you know, then, you know, the particular issues in Buganda then become much more complicated. So there is—there’s a bit of that, um, how the Buganda project blew up. So I think those just make it, um, you know, have just changed his political standing.

Agather: 
Okay. So—so earlier—earlier on, you—you said, um, you alluded to what happened in Kenya in 2002. And you said that’s most likely its going to happen in the case of Uganda, right?

Onyango Obbo:
Yeah.

Agather: Do you think that the circumstances or maybe that—that pushed Moi to make such concessions are prevalent here or will be at some point in the near future?

Onyango Obbo: Um, yes. And, you know, you have to look—because precisely because of the longevity of Museveni’s rule, there are very, very many people—there are very, very many people, you know, who have done very well after it. And they are—when they come to a point where they have to recognize that, for biological reasons, Museveni won’t be there, they as, you know, property—you know, capitalists and property owners—are very, very pragmatic and, you know, smart people.

So, I think that we will see those elements coalescing together. I get people who share with me some of the conversations that take place in WhatsApp groups in Uganda. And, you know, I have recently looked at two conversations of what you say are the WhatsApp conversations of people who have benefited from the political order. And it’s unbelievable. It’s unbelievable, the conversation going there. They do actually—are confronting these issues in a very, very direct way. And even some of them were saying, you know, some of these things that are being done in Uganda, you know, it can’t be done in our name. So, outwardly, you know, it might look bleak. But I think that the people who have done very well from this order—they are practical men and women, and with self-interest, you know, with rational self-interest. I think that we will begin to see those kinds of movements and, you know, coalescing with other forces and, you know, I think come—you know, attempt to craft, you know, a sensible, you know, transition. I don’t want to bank on it completely. It could go terribly wrong. Because, like I think Toko said at the—you know, at the start, there is the other part of the equation. If you look at it, it’s very difficult to see how Uganda holds together as a single state after Museveni. Because can anyone really ever have the kind of initial foundational credibility that he had when he came to power to keep this project together?

Will any figure ever be able to even articulate the kind of vision which he articulated in the beginning? Probably no. Is there any part of Uganda that is going to accept, even in purely, you know, sectarian and ethnic terms, that someone from that kind of vision which he articulated in the beginning—probably no. Is there any part of Uganda that’s going to accept, even in purely, you know, sectarian and ethnic terms, that someone from another region should be their president and they trust that it will end well for them? Probably no.

So, if you look at it that way, the option then seems—look, you know, either Uganda breaks up, or the person who holds it together will have to murder half of the country to keep it together. You know, so—so that looks very bleak, but it is also a real possibility. So, you have a competition for these various scenarios for how the story ends.

Agather: I see you and Toko agreeing with him that he’s the only visionary among the 45 million people, right?

Onyango Obbo: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I didn’t say he was the only one. Yeah, uh, the—you know, um—you know, let me tell you a little story. When, um—after the December 1980 elections were stolen—I know my friend Andrew doesn’t think so, he doesn’t believe they were stolen, but they were—uh, there was, uh, you know, there was a meeting at, um, Kintu Musoke house in Lungujja, you know, just down below the hill. And so, there were all these UPM people, you know, UPM people, the Bidandi’s, the Chango Machos—all these guys, they were all there. So, so, they were discussing what would happen now that, uh, this election had been, uh, stolen. And—and so, they spent the whole night discussing. And also, there were all these scenarios: we go, we work with the people, quietly mobilize, um, create, you know, political cells—a very, very Marxist kind of approach. And—and that was the dominant, uh, point of view—that people disperse and create, uh, political communities organized on several fronts.

Now, Museveni sits through all of this and says nothing. He’s mostly listening, very politely. So, in the morning, they are leaving, and if you go to Kintu Musoke’s house, they have long stairs coming down like so. He’s—he’s one of the first people to walk down. And when he gets to the bottom of the stairs, he turns to the rest of the guys and tells them:

“You know what, you guys? If you want, you can go and mobilize. Me, I’m not going to sit around and let Obote arrest me.”

So—and that’s something he could have told the rest of the people, um, but—but he didn’t. Now, um, I’ve—I’ve had conversations with many of these people, including many times with Bidandi Ssali and Kintu Musoke.

What do they think of it? And Kintu Musoke told me, “You know, Charles, he won. Eventually, all of us came, and, you know, we had to rally around the project that he created. But he defined us. And he won.” So, it’s—it’s, uh, he’s—uh, there are—there are many people who are visionaries in Uganda. I mean, they—they—there’s no shortage of them. But the reality is that he’s the one that won power. You can’t take that away.

Agather: I hear you. So—so—so, Charles, you’re talking about biology and all, um, what—what if President Museveni died in power? Just because, you know, he wants to run again, uh, in, um, the race next year, and then he is 82, 83—so as people grow older, of course, um, the chances of, um, of dying are higher. If President Museveni died in power, what would happen? What do you think would happen? The—like, the scenarios now?

Onyango Obbo: Okay. I—I—I, um, you know, I—I, uh—I, uh—you know, I’m gonna display a little bit of teenage naivety here. But, uh—but I do actually think that what happens next will be—this will be determined by the UPDF. And—and the UPDF mainstream. Because I think there tends to be a lot of focus on, uh, um, you know—you know, the—you know, the UPDF element around—around and things like that. But, uh, you know, the thing is, is that this is actually a very, very progressive element within, you know, a very nationalist and broad element within, you know, the—you know, the UPDF. It’s not the most visible. It is probably not even the most dominant. But it is largely committed to some of the trappings of the constitution that are left—of some form of, of, um, you know, respectable, mainstream type of, uh, you know, transition. Um, you know, many of them do, uh, think that, you know—you know, the Ugandan project should be much more, you know, inclusive. And I still think that, whereas most people are not focused there, I think that we immediately see that element coming before. If there is, uh—God forbid—something abruptly happens to Museveni, and, you know, he doesn’t wake up at all…

Agather:
So this is you being pragmatic because we have a constitution that says otherwise.

Onyango Obbo:Yeah, no, no, no. You know, it won’t happen, you know, because there will be such a great sense of crisis, you know. And, you know, some people will be running for the hills—people who are very insecure. So we will have a breakdown. But I think that there will also be that element who will then say, “No, no, no, no, you know, there are some kind of rules that we have. There is a certain kind of logic to how power should be organized in Uganda. Can we craft something?” And I think that, you know, the UPDF will have, you know, the most important say in that settlement.

Agather:
Okay, so I was going to say—that means we’ve become a full-blown military state?

Onyango Obbo: Not necessarily, you know, because Uganda is very—it’s, the way power is, we will always have a civilian-military consortium. Let me put it that way. I don’t think that we will go to a very traditional military state unless that transition happens via a coup. And I don’t know, you know, how many people think that that is a real possibility in the Ugandan context. I don’t see it happening, you know, in the short term. So I think as long as it doesn’t happen that way, I think we’ll have some civilian-military consortium with, you know, some authoritarian elements to it, but also with some semi-democratic elements tucked in the corner somewhere there.

Agather: Okay, so now, Charles—the Western powers have always, I mean, the Europeans and the Americans have always played a big role in many changes of government in Africa.
Even with President Museveni, of course, coming to power, he got a lot of support from them. But also, his era has been backed by these powers for a long time. Do you think they can or will play any role in us transitioning from President Museveni to another leader?

Onyango Obbo: I am aware of a couple of—two, three, four—efforts which, you know, the diplomatic community, some of the, you know, the global powers that you speak of, are involved in around the Ugandan transition. They don’t seem to have picked up a lot of steam. And also, generally, what we are seeing everywhere is that there is—I mean, admittedly—a decline of those, you know, interventionist powers in African and Ugandan politics. So I think that their ability to determine, you know, the final shape of how the Ugandan transition looks—I think it has diminished considerably. But they might be very important after it has happened in terms of bringing diplomatic support and resources around the new regime and the new leadership. So that they have the resources to buy themselves political credibility, to offer the country social bribes and legitimize themselves. I see them playing a role in that sense. But I think in terms of the very strict area of who gets to sit at the table and those kinds of things—their ability to do so has diminished considerably.

Agather: I see Godwin has a question.

Godwin: Okay, so I’m going to ask…The demographic shift in Uganda—to the point that today, probably 80% or even more of Ugandans were born at the time of Museveni—how does that affect, how does that play out in the post-Museveni era? You have people who have had fears from the 1960s, how their communities have been affected. But so many Ugandans have grown up without that. They’ve not had—apart from reading in books—cases of what Amin did. Many are naive and even dispute it. There are so many Gen Zs and younger people here saying that Amin was probably better—never mind that they didn’t live through that. So how does that generally play out in the aftermath of Museveni’s presidency in Uganda?

Onyango Obbo: You know, actually, very literal. And, you know, because—let me tell you—if you look at youth politics, it goes back to the question of, you know, Museveni’s age.
I don’t think that age alone can be the basis on which you organize politics. In other words, you have to infuse some problematic and ideological elements. So the question then becomes: What do these young people represent? What do they want? What can they do? And unfortunately, you know, by and large—and this is not just Ugandans, this is all over the world, you know, as the recent U.S. election shows—many young people are really fairly conservative and even reactionary in their politics. So, you know, they might have the age, but they’re not incredibly progressive. And I think that, you know, in that sense, it has limited their ability to influence, you know, the political path of the country.

And it’s really played into Museveni’s hand. And even he knows this very well. Remember, you know, was it two years ago when he talked about young people throwing their legs up in the night? You know, you should leave them the freedom to do that.

And I think he understands that. So my own sense is that, yes, there are those demographic realities, but they are not politically potent yet. I mean, we do recognize—and people talk a lot about—these young people, this demographic youth, but, you know, it really will not amount to much until they craft an idea of the kind of society they want and organize around it, you know, in a broad national sort of way.

Ends.