By Praise Aloikin Opoloje
The Uganda presidential election on January 15, 2026, ended with the Electoral Commission declaring President Yoweri Museveni the winner for a seventh term. He garnered 71.65% of the vote (over 7.9 million votes). His main challenger, Robert Kyagulanyi better known as Bobi Wine of the National Unity Platform (NUP), received about 24.7% (around 2.7 million votes).
Turnout was reported at roughly 52.5%. Museveni, now 81, has ruled since 1986. But for many Ugandans, the numbers tell only part of the story. The campaign and polling days were overshadowed by deep fear: fear of speaking out, fear of showing up to vote freely and fear that peaceful political action could be twisted into a “threat to national security.” Instead of open debate and choice, the process felt like a carefully orchestrated effort to make opposition seem dangerous and to make staying silent the safer option.
The Computer Misuse (Amendment) Act, originally aimed at fighting cybercrime, was used to target people sharing election news or criticism. Journalists, bloggers, and activists faced charges for “malicious” or “unsolicited” information. The UN Human Rights Office highlighted how this created widespread repression in the lead-up, with arbitrary arrests and detentions silencing dissent. Social media platforms where Ugandans debate, organize, and share evidence were emptied, leaving people isolated and afraid to post honestly with the culmination of the internet shutdown. Recent reports from Amnesty International show that security forces frequently categorized peaceful rallies by the National Unity Platform (NUP) as “unlawful assemblies,”justifiying the use of tear gas, pepper spray, and live ammunition. This illustrated how administrative tools were selectively applied to suppress legitimate political activity.
The courts became a battlefield, with veteran opposition leader Dr. Kizza Besigye abducted from Kenya in November 2024, forcibly returned to Uganda, and charged with treason (a capital offense). He has since been in detention with court appearances including in military courts to civilian courts where bail denials have persisted. Closer to the vote, human rights lawyer and activist Dr. Sarah Bireete was arrested at home on December 30, 2025 just weeks before polling, and charged with unlawfully obtaining or disclosing personal data (linked to voter register discussions). She was denied prompt bail consideration and remanded to Luzira Prison, missing the election period. She was later granted bail, January 28,2026.
In Luwero and elsewhere, dozens of NUP supporters faced riot-related charges with little evidence, landing them in remand.
Civic groups like Chapter Four Uganda had permits suspended on “national security” grounds days before the vote. These cases, often built on vague laws, removed watchdogs and intimidated others from monitoring or speaking up.
General Muhoozi Kainerugaba the Chief of Defence Forces and Museveni’s son posted repeatedly on social media framing NUP supporters as “terrorists.” In the chaotic days after the vote, he claimed security forces had “killed 22 NUP terrorists since last week” and openly prayed the “23rd” would be Bobi Wine (using a derogatory nickname, “Kabobi”). He issued a 48-hour ultimatum for Bobi Wine to surrender or be treated as an “outlaw/rebel.” Even if framed as tough talk, these words from the head of the military carry real weight. They normalize violence, scare journalists from reporting, and make ordinary citizens think twice about participating in civic spaces. Election day felt militarized, with NUP polling agents reported being chased away, abducted, or blocked from stations especially in opposition-hotspots like Mityana, Butambala and Palaro in Gulu.
Numerous polling agents were reportedly picked up by security in some cases, preventing them from witnessing counts. Declaration of Result forms were allegedly confiscated and tampered with. Voters faced dispersal by force in some districts. Bobi Wine was reportedly placed under house arrest, with his party claiming a raid and abduction attempt; he later went into hiding, rejecting the results as “fake” and citing ballot stuffing and intimidation. Other NUP figures like Lina Zedriga, candidate Bright Muhumuza, and activist Jackeline Tukamushabe also faced detentions or disappearances at critical times. Observers described the exercise not as a democratic process, but as a military operation designed to bypass legal safeguards and predetermined the outcome.
Months before the vote, senior figures including General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, members of his Patriotic League of Uganda (PLU) such as David Kabanda and Children and Youth Affairs Minister Balaam Barugahara, as well as NRM regime leaders like Speaker Anita Among and Deputy Speaker Thomas Tayebwa sent a clear signal that åthe outcome was already predetermined. Through a combination of social media threats, paramilitary rhetoric, and public statements, opposition and civic actors were framed as enemies of the state, while the inevitability of Museveni’s victory was repeatedly emphasized. This chorus of intimidation discouraged public participation, normalized the use of force, and created an environment in which repression could be executed without challenge. By presenting dissent as a threat to national security and portraying electoral outcomes as foregone conclusions, the state leveraged disinformation to condition public expectations, legitimize coercion, and suppress accountability. By the time polls opened, the election had already been reframed in the public imagination: it was no longer a contest of competing visions, but a test of loyalty versus perceived threat.
Taken together, the 2026 Ugandan election demonstrates how national security can be weaponized. Laws were selectively enforced to criminalize dissent; civic and political actors were arrested, abducted, or neutralized; senior military and government figures reframed lawful participation as a threat, normalizing violence and intimidation; and voting and counting were militarized, with key electoral safeguards bypassed or destroyed. In effect, national security ceased to protect citizens and instead became a tool to preserve political power.
Pingback: Weaponization of National Security (Part 1) - Agora Investigates