By Praise Aloikin Opoloje
It’s reasonable to think that no one expects elections to be perfect, especially in a country like Uganda, where past elections have been marred by injustices. However, when things go wrong and rights are trampled, when violence breaks out, and power is abused, we expect the institutions meant to protect us to step in quickly and decisively.
Yet, looking at how Uganda’s elections unfold, especially during this election period, a heartbreaking pattern keeps repeating. It’s not that our courts, human rights bodies, parliament, or professional groups are silent or invisible. They are actually “busy”, holding hearings, issuing statements, debating in committees, and speaking out with strong words.
To someone watching from afar, it might even look like everything’s working: “See? The system is responding.” But for those of us living it, who have been arrested and beaten, citizens intimidated at political rallies, and journalists brutally harassed and excluded from airing certain political events, it feels painfully different.
These responses often stop short of actually halting the harm in the moment. When we look at the courts, judges hear urgent cases from opposition leaders or activists facing arrest. Sometimes they grant temporary orders, but too often, those orders aren’t enforced right away, or the full rulings come months later, long after the election is over, when the damage is done and any “justice” feels hollow, like closing the door after the thief has gone.
Human rights organizations, like the Uganda Human Rights Commission, do speak up. They express “deep concern”, announce investigations, and promise reports. We hear warnings about torture, arbitrary arrests, or the tear-gassing of peaceful gatherings. But rarely do we see swift action or perpetrators named and held accountable, victims protected immediately, or patterns broken before they worsen.
Parliament debates fiercely about security forces being in the house, about electoral fairness, and about abuses. Occasionally, committees are formed, and questions are asked. Yet, when it comes to election violence or misuse of power by state agencies, those debates rarely lead to binding resolutions that rein in the excesses, nor meaningful oversight that changes behavior on the ground. Instead, the activity seems to calm tensions, to show that “something is being done,” while the underlying problems roll on.
Even professional bodies, journalists’ groups such the National Association of broad casters, and lawyer societies like the East African Law Society issue powerful statements condemning violations and calling for ethics and rule of law. These words matter; they remind us of higher standards. But coordinated action to confront the abuses head-on such as sustained lawsuits, unified documentation that forces change, or bold stands that risk discomfort are limited.
The result is institutions performing the role of watchdogs without truly biting. They do just enough to appear active, to ease public outrage, to tick the boxes of their mandates, and to send reports back to their funders. But not enough to stop the beatings, the arrests, the intimidation in real time, and not enough to protect ordinary citizens when it matters most.
We are led to believe the safeguards are there because we see the statements made by these institutions. We want to believe our democracy has checks and balances. But in reality, these half-measures often act as a shield for the powerful, absorbing pressure while letting violations continue.
The suspension of the Democratic Governance Facility (DGF) in January 2021 and Chapter Four Uganda in January 2026 illustrate this dynamic. These organizations supported civil society, courts, and other actors engaged in democracy, human rights, and access to justice. Their closure weakened independent monitoring, litigation, and citizen protection. While courts continued to operate, commissions issued statements, and Parliament held sessions, the backbone of civil society that gave these institutions substance was neutralized. To an ordinary citizen, oversight remained visible, yet functional protection was drastically reduced.
Forward to Chapter Four Uganda whose purpose among others, translated constitutional guarantees into practical protection through legal aid, public interest litigation, and advocacy for individuals targeted during politically sensitive moments. Its closure removed one of the few actors capable of compelling institutions to respond to unlawful arrests, political violence, and restrictions on assembly. The outward presence of regulatory bodies created the appearance of protection while leaving citizens without practical recourse.
Courts, too, illustrate the limits of formal oversight. Even when acknowledging widespread electoral violations, as in Amama Mbabazi v Museveni case of 2016, the Supreme Court upheld the election, reasoning that the violations were not personally committed by the incumbent or by agents with his knowledge or approval. This signaled that judicial recognition of harm does not guarantee protection. Justice is acknowledged but withheld, preserving the system rather than safeguarding citizens.
Digital rights further highlight this pattern of conditional protection. Following a nationwide internet shutdown, the Uganda Communications Commission warned that individuals bypassing restrictions using Virtual Private Networks (VPNs) could face direct technical attacks on their devices. While internet access was restored, it came with a threat rather than a guarantee of rights. Surveillance is normalised, and citizens were cautioned that any “illegal” use could trigger retaliation even without judicial oversight. This creates an environment where the mere act of exercising freedoms online carries risk, reinforcing fear while institutions appear operational.
Taken together, these events reveal a consistent governance strategy: institutions appear active, but independent actors and citizens are left vulnerable. Courts, commissions, and Parliament maintain form, but enforcement is limited, and protections for citizens are weakened. Regulatory mechanisms exist, yet their practical impact is muted, giving the appearance of oversight while preserving the continuity of the system.
Meaningful accountability requires that oversight institutions not only exist on paper but act decisively to safeguard citizens’ rights, ensure justice, and resist intimidation.
Uganda’s electoral governance increasingly protects the system rather than the electorate. Meaningful accountability requires that oversight institutions not only exist on paper, but act decisively to safeguard citizens’ rights, ensure justice, and resist intimidation whether in the courts, online, or through civil society support structures.
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