By Evan Sande Ndahura
There is a dangerous silence that settles over a nation when institutions cease to think and begin merely to obey. It is the silence of fear, of resignation, and of the slow death of liberty. A country where the police, the military, the courts, and Parliament act not on principle but on instruction ceases to be governed by law and instead becomes governed by power. In such a state, legality is reduced to a tool of convenience, and justice becomes selective. Across parts of Africa—and strikingly within Uganda—this uneasy transformation is no longer theoretical; it is unfolding in real time.
At the heart of this crisis lies the erosion of institutional independence. The doctrine of separation of powers, long upheld as the bedrock of constitutional governance, is increasingly compromised when state organs align themselves with political authority rather than constitutional duty. The reintroduction of military trials for civilians in Uganda in 2025, despite a prior Supreme Court declaration of their unconstitutionality, exemplifies this tension. President Yoweri Museveni’s assent to such legislation drew criticism from legal scholars and opposition figures, who argued that it undermines judicial authority and due process.
This pattern is not confined to legislation alone; it extends into the everyday conduct of state agents. Reports by the Uganda Human Rights Commission have documented instances where police violently dispersed lawful assemblies, often without accountability. Similarly, the Uganda Law Society has highlighted recurring incidents of gun violence and abuse by security agencies, raising concerns about the normalisation of excessive force. Scholars have long warned of this phenomenon, noting how the state increasingly blurs the line between lawful and unlawful violence, creating an atmosphere in which citizens cannot predict whether they will be protected or persecuted.
The most glaring and dangerous manifestation of state overreach, however, lies in the routine use of violence, arbitrary arrests, and open defiance of court orders by state agencies. In Uganda, recent years have presented a troubling catalogue of such incidents. The continued detention and military prosecution of Kizza Besigye—even after the Supreme Court declared military trials of civilians unconstitutional—represents a direct affront to judicial authority and constitutionalism. During the 2021 and subsequent electoral cycles, security forces reportedly used live ammunition against civilians, leading to multiple deaths, while opposition figures such as Robert Kyagulanyi were assaulted, abducted, or placed under unlawful house arrest.
Beyond high-profile political actors, ordinary citizens have also borne the brunt of unchecked state power. Protesters demonstrating against corruption have repeatedly been met with violent dispersal, arbitrary arrests, and detention under vague and elastic offences such as “common nuisance.” Victims of police brutality have increasingly resorted to courts of law, citing illegal detention, torture, and violations of fundamental rights. Yet even where courts have pronounced themselves against such abuses, implementation remains weak, revealing a troubling gap between judicial authority and executive compliance.
The pattern reflects a broader militarisation of civilian governance. Joint operations between police and military forces have become normalised, often resulting in excessive and disproportionate use of force. This fusion of military and civilian authority blurs accountability and enables the state to act outside the law while maintaining a façade of legality. Courts themselves have previously warned that certain legal provisions empowering police to disperse assemblies effectively grant a “licence to shoot,” underscoring the structural nature of the problem.
Across Africa, similar trends persist. In Nigeria, during the #EndSARS protests, security forces were implicated in the killing of unarmed demonstrators, most notably at the Lekki Toll Gate. In Sudan, particularly during the 2019–2023 protests, military authorities have been accused of mass killings, enforced disappearances, and brutal crackdowns on civilians demanding democratic transition. These incidents reveal a continental pattern in which the state, instead of being the guarantor of rights, becomes their principal violator. The common thread is impunity: security agencies act—often unlawfully—and are rarely held accountable.
What is perhaps most disturbing is how frequently these abuses are exposed in the public domain—through social media, court rulings, and international reports—yet persist unabated. From viral videos of police brutality to judicial pronouncements openly disregarded by state actors, the evidence is no longer hidden. The state is not merely erring; it is increasingly acting in conscious disregard of the law. And when a government is repeatedly “caught off guard” by the very legal framework it is sworn to uphold, it ceases to be bound by law and instead becomes a law unto itself.
Scholars and public intellectuals have not remained silent. Mahmood Mamdani has long argued that many African states still operate within inherited colonial frameworks designed for control rather than accountability. Ugandan philosopher Jim Spire Ssentongo has emphasised the moral decay that arises when individuals surrender conscience to authority, warning that ethical responsibility cannot be delegated to the state. Likewise, Kenyan jurist Willy Mutunga has consistently maintained that the judiciary must remain the last line of defence against tyranny, lest it become complicit in it.
The path forward demands more than rhetoric. It requires the rebuilding of institutions grounded in constitutionalism, the strengthening of oversight bodies, and the cultivation of a civic culture that values principle over obedience. It also requires courage—both from those within the system and those outside it—to resist unlawful orders and to insist on accountability.
A nation does not lose its freedom in a single moment; it erodes gradually through compromises, silences, and the normalisation of injustice. When institutions abandon conscience, they do not merely fail the law—they betray the people. And in that betrayal lies the true danger: not just that freedom is lost, but that its absence becomes accepted as normal.
About the Writer
Evan Sande Ndahura is a Ugandan political and legal commentator, columnist, poet, and social justice advocate whose writings focus on governance, constitutionalism, democracy, and the political economy of power in Africa. He is widely published on issues of judicial accountability, electoral justice, human rights, and institutional reform, with a particular emphasis on Uganda’s political and legal systems. Ndahura writes from a Pan-African critical perspective, interrogating the failures of state institutions and the lived realities of ordinary citizens under entrenched systems of power. He believes that the liberation of Africa will occur through the power of the pen, not the gun.
