The African constitutional crisis is neither a new nor an exceptional feature. Instead, it marks the climax of decades of calculated abuse of constitutional structures by individuals whose self-interest, political expediency, or institutional vulnerabilities make them opt for such acts. In most African nations, the Constitution—once a desired sacred social compact between government and governed—has been transformed into a malleable tool, employed by ruling elites to strengthen their grip on power, silence opposition, and undermine democratic accountability. The Ugandan experience offers a rich, if unsettling, lens through which to examine this transformation. From the optimism of the 1995 Constitution to today’s reality of prolonged presidential rule and eroded rule of law, the experience of Uganda has embodied much of the wider challenge across the continent.
The history of post-independence Uganda has been marked by constitutional instability. After independence from British colonial rule in 1962, Uganda possessed a parliamentary system only to descend into chaos with the suspension of the 1966 Constitution by the then-Prime Minister Milton Obote. This marked the beginning of decades of constitutional manipulation that would lead to a series of regimes of authoritarian rule, the brutal dictatorship of Idi Amin being among them. It was only with a return to constitutionalism after several decades of political violence and civil unrest. In 1995 during the presidency of President Yoweri Museveni, Uganda adopted a new Constitution, which was regarded as being progressive and visionary. It had provisions for term limits, age limits, and open divisions of powers aimed at insulating the country against the very abuses it had suffered for decades.

But like most African constitutions, Uganda’s was only as strong as the political will that supported it. The same head under whom it had been declared would go on to weaken its core provisions. The Ugandan Parliament, dominated by the ruling National Resistance Movement (NRM), voted in 2005 to scrap the two-term limit on the presidency. The amendment was approved on a vote of 220-53, following allegations of bribery and political intimidation. This change provided Museveni with an opportunity to contest the 2006, 2011, 2016, and 2021 elections, thereby extending his rule beyond the initial constitutional limit.
The next major constitutional setback was in 2017 when the provision of limiting age was removed. Previously, the Constitution had precluded any person over the age of 75 from seeking the presidency. With Museveni approaching this landmark, the NRM-controlled Parliament once more amended the Constitution. The exercise was contentious. Opposition MPs were physically assaulted within Parliament, opposition from the public at large was responded to with violence, and the public at large was left out of a national decision-making process. The amendment essentially set the stage for Museveni to remain in power indefinitely.
These amendments to the constitution are not legal footnotes; they reflect a more general decline of the rule of law in Uganda. The doctrine of the separation of powers, a keystone of constitutional democracy, has increasingly become a fiction. The judiciary, formally independent, is subject to great political pressure. There have been numerous high-profile judgments that seem to favor the executive, raising questions about the impartiality of the courts. Parallel to this, however, Parliament has generally operated less as a curb on presidential power and more as a rubber stamp, particularly given the NRM’s commanding majority and the corrupting influence of patronage.

The General Court Martial has also been a symbol of constitutional perversion. Initially intended to prosecute members of the armed forces, it has increasingly been used against civilians—especially political leaders and activists. As of 2022, Human Rights Watch documented that dozens of civilians had been tried in military courts, a violation of Uganda’s own constitutional protections and international human rights standards. For instance, opposition politician Robert Kyagulanyi, also known as Bobi Wine, and his team have been arrested repeatedly on dubious allegations, and several of them were dragged before the military courts.
This repression of voices of opposition is part of a broader trend in shrinking civic space. Uganda’s Public Order Management Act (POMA) of 2013 has been used to crackdown on public events and criminalize peaceful protests. The Uganda Police Force, that has been persistently accused of being brutal, has emerged as a key tool in the crackdown on political opposition. During the 2021 general elections, at least 50 people were shot dead at protests following Bobi Wine’s arrest. The Uganda Communications Commission (UCC) has also played a role in silencing the opposition by requiring internet shutdowns and shutting down social media platforms at critical political moments.
These developments have serious implications for Uganda’s democratic trajectory. Though elections continue to be held, their legitimacy has increasingly been put in doubt. International observers, the European Union and the United States among them, have raised questions about electoral misconduct, voter intimidation, and the failure to achieve a level playing field. The 2021 elections, in which Museveni was elected to a sixth term, were marred by allegations of fraud, suppression of opposition activity, and a near-total blackout of election-day information.

Uganda’s constitutional retrogression mirrors a larger continental pattern. Through the Africa Center for Strategic Studies, by 2023 more than 15 African nations had amended their constitutions since the year 2000 to erase or expand presidential term limits. Other nations, including Cameroon, Rwanda, the Republic of Congo, and Togo, have done similarly, sometimes for so-called democratic reforms. On the contrary, in truth these changes have perpetuated authoritarian governance, disempowered institutions, and eroded citizen trust in the state.

The motivations behind such manipulations are varied. For incumbency elites, retaining office guarantees continuous access to state resources, immunity from prosecution, and the authority to shape succession in politics. Malfunctioning institutions make it easier to override formal norms, and patronage networks guarantee political loyalty. In the majority of cases, there is also minimal continued civic education and engagement, making citizens unable to counter effectively manipulations of the constitution.
Resistance is on the rise, nonetheless. Uganda has witnessed prominent youth-led political activism in recent years. Movements like “People Power,” organized by Bobi Wine, have mobilized Ugandan youth disappointed with unemployment, corruption, and repression. Despite the state’s aggressive response, the fact that such movements have endured means that the demand for actual constitutionalism remains. Civil society actors, journalists, and legal rights associations continue to protest for reform, even under extreme pressure.

What needs to be done to correct this crisis? Firstly, institutional autonomy must be reasserted. The judiciary must be insulated against the executive’s interference, and safeguards must be established to protect judges against political vendetta. Secondly, civic education must be prioritized. Citizens must be taught about constitutional provisions, not as abstract legal texts, but as tools for the protection of their rights and for keeping the powerful accountable.
A new role for the international actors The sovereignty of States must be recognized, but here too, international pressure through effective diplomacy, punitive sanctions against individuals responsible for serious violations of their people’s rights, and empowerment of civil society are necessary. Regional bodies must do more than pay lip service to standards; they must hold governments accountable, more vigorously. Peer review and other mechanisms are needed to embarrass governments when their actions violate constitutional norms.
Ultimately, constitutions are as strong as the people that maintain them. Uganda’s case is a reminder that there is more to democracy than on paper. It is the daily battle—in courtrooms, on streets, and in Parliament—over the way things are done that will determine if the rule of law wins or loses. As African nations continue to grapple with governance challenges, maintenance of constitutional integrity has to be at the core of the democratic project.
Uganda’s story is both a warning and an appeal to action. It illustrates how powerful a coalition of entrenched interests can be in discrediting constitutional democracy and how durable those are who have the courage to oppose them. Finally, the struggle for the Constitution is a struggle for the nation’s soul. It must be taken up, and won not only in Uganda but throughout Africa.