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COMMENTARY
Tomorrow, Uganda will once again dress itself in the colours of independence. Flags will fly, speeches will be delivered, military parades will march, politicians will praise the achievements of the last sixty-four years, and citizens will be reminded that on 9 October 1962, the Union Jack came down and the Ugandan flag went up. We shall celebrate the departure of the British colonial administration and the birth of Uganda as a sovereign state.
But as the drums of celebration beat, perhaps we should ask a question more uncomfortable than patriotic: what exactly did Uganda become independent from, and what exactly did Uganda become independent for?
If independence simply means the transfer of governmental authority from a foreign colonial administration to an African government, then Uganda certainly became independent in 1962. But if independence means the ability of a people to determine their political destiny, control their resources, protect their dignity, build their own economy, enjoy democratic government, live without fear of arbitrary power and ensure that the wealth of their country serves the majority rather than a privileged minority, then perhaps our independence remains an unfinished project.
Uganda became independent from Britain in 1962. That historical fact cannot and should not be diminished. But independence was never supposed to be merely a change of the person occupying the colonial governor's office. It was supposed to be the liberation of a people. It was supposed to mean that the resources of Uganda would serve Ugandans, that government would become an instrument of public welfare rather than domination, that citizens would acquire political dignity, that African economies would cease to exist primarily for the benefit of external interests, and that the African would finally become the master of his own destiny.
That is where our uncomfortable conversation begins.
There is something profoundly disturbing about celebrating independence every year while refusing to examine whether the substance of independence has actually reached the ordinary Ugandan. We celebrate the lowering of the British flag, yet millions of Ugandans continue to struggle with economic dependence, unemployment, poverty, political intimidation and institutional weaknesses that make the word independence sound almost ceremonial.
The colonial master left, but the colonial architecture of extraction did not entirely disappear. In some respects, it merely acquired African managers.
The tragedy of post-colonial Africa has not been that Africans replaced Europeans. That replacement was necessary and historically justified. The tragedy is that, in too many places, the African state inherited the colonial machinery of extraction, centralisation and coercion and then discovered that it could use the same machinery against its own people.
The colour of the face changed. The language changed. The flag changed. The names of the officials changed. But the relationship between power and the ordinary citizen often remained painfully familiar.
The colonial government extracted resources from Africa and exported much of the value elsewhere. The post-colonial state was expected to reverse that relationship. Yet Uganda continues to face the challenges of corruption, capital flight, illicit financial flows, tax evasion and other forms of financial leakage. The African Development Bank has warned that illicit financial flows and weaknesses in domestic resource mobilisation undermine African countries' capacity to finance their own development.
The colonial master once looked at Uganda's coffee, cotton, minerals, land and labour and saw economic opportunity for the empire. Today, we cannot simply blame Europeans whenever Uganda's resources are badly managed. We must also ask what our own political and economic elites have done with the inheritance of independence.
What is independence if a country possesses fertile land, minerals, oil, forests, water and enormous economic potential, yet the majority of its citizens remain unable to translate those resources into decent livelihoods?
What is independence if a young Ugandan graduates from university and spends years searching for employment while political patronage determines who gains access to opportunities?
What is independence if the state can mobilise enormous resources for political administration and security but struggles to provide every citizen with reliable healthcare, quality education, productive agriculture, affordable credit and meaningful employment?
Uganda's employment statistics tell a story that deserves more attention than the speeches delivered on Independence Day. The Uganda Bureau of Statistics has reported persistently difficult labour-market conditions, particularly for young people and women. Behind every percentage is a young person whose education has not translated into economic opportunity, a parent struggling to support a family, or a citizen wondering whether independence has delivered the dignity it was supposed to provide.
The tragedy is not simply that jobs are scarce. It is that a nation can educate its young people for years and then leave them to discover that the doors of economic opportunity are either closed or accessible only through connections, capital and political favour.
A country cannot claim complete economic liberation when its young people are compelled to search endlessly for opportunities while its resources remain insufficiently transformed into productive industries. The independence struggle was not fought merely to replace British administrators with African administrators. It was fought to give Africans the power to determine the conditions of their own lives.
And then there is the question of debt.
A country cannot convincingly speak of economic independence while increasingly borrowing to finance its development and subsequently devoting an enormous portion of its revenue to servicing that debt. Uganda's Ministry of Finance reported that public debt rose from approximately Shs94.7 trillion in June 2024 to Shs116.2 trillion in June 2025. By June 2026, the debt stock had risen further to approximately Shs136.1 trillion, equivalent to US$37.1 billion, with debt reaching about 54.3 per cent of gross domestic product.
The government is correct that borrowing can be a legitimate instrument of development. Debt is not inherently evil. Countries borrow to build infrastructure, expand productive capacity and finance investments whose economic returns can exceed the cost of borrowing. The question is not simply whether Uganda borrows. The question is what Uganda borrows for, who benefits from that borrowing, how efficiently the money is used, and who ultimately pays the bill.
When a country borrows today, it does not merely borrow money. It borrows against the labour and taxation of tomorrow's citizens. The child being born today may inherit the obligation to repay money whose benefits he or she never enjoyed.
That is why economic independence is much deeper than possessing a national currency, a central bank and a Ugandan Minister of Finance. Economic independence means having sufficient productive capacity to finance national priorities without perpetually mortgaging the future of citizens.
A truly economically independent Uganda would produce more of what it consumes, process more of what it produces, export finished products rather than relying excessively on raw materials, mobilise domestic capital, protect productive industries, create jobs, strengthen local businesses and ensure that the wealth generated from natural resources circulates substantially within the Ugandan economy.
It would not merely celebrate the oil beneath Lake Albert. It would ask who controls the value chain, where the profits go, what Ugandans manufacture, what skills they acquire, how many jobs are created and how many generations will benefit.
The question is not whether foreign investment is undesirable. Foreign investment can be essential to national development. The question is whether it strengthens domestic productive capacity or leaves the country dependent on external capital, technology, markets and decision-makers. Genuine economic independence requires partnerships that serve the national interest rather than arrangements that reduce a resource-rich country to a supplier of raw materials and cheap labour.
We must also confront the uncomfortable reality that resources stolen or diverted by African elites may eventually find their way into foreign bank accounts, luxury property, offshore financial arrangements and investments beyond the reach of the ordinary citizen. Not every African holding assets abroad has stolen public money, and not every foreign investment represents illicit wealth. But where public resources are corruptly acquired and concealed abroad, the betrayal is twofold: the country loses the resources, and its citizens are denied the development those resources could have financed.
The colonial master once extracted wealth from Africa for the benefit of the empire. The African official who diverts public resources for private enrichment reproduces the same fundamental injustice, even when the destination of the money is a foreign bank account rather than a colonial treasury.
The destination may have changed. The victim remains the citizen.
Independence must also mean military independence. A sovereign state must possess institutions capable of protecting its territory and citizens, but the military must remain subject to constitutional authority and the law. The gun must protect the citizen rather than become an instrument for intimidating the citizen.
When soldiers become involved in the political management of civilian disagreement, independence acquires a dangerous contradiction. A citizen should not have to wonder whether expressing an unpopular political opinion might attract the attention of security agencies.
Uganda's human rights record makes this question particularly urgent. Human Rights Watch has documented restrictions on political opposition, journalists and protesters, alongside allegations of arbitrary detention and abuses by security personnel. Such concerns deserve serious investigation, transparent accountability and effective remedies.
In January 2025, Uganda's Supreme Court ruled against the trial of civilians by military courts, reaffirming the importance of constitutional limits on military jurisdiction. The significance of that ruling extends beyond the immediate legal dispute. It reminds us that independence is not simply about who commands the armed forces, but about whether every institution of coercive power is restrained by law.
What does political independence mean if citizens can vote but fear the consequences of opposing those who govern?
What does democracy mean if dissent is treated as hostility to the state?
What does sovereignty mean if freedom of expression becomes conditional upon whether the government approves of what is being said?
Independence should have liberated Africans from the colonial culture of fear. It should not have reproduced fear under African governments.
There is an especially painful irony here. Colonial administrations restricted political organisation, suppressed resistance and treated African demands for freedom as threats to public order. Yet decades after independence, Ugandans have continued to witness arrests, restrictions on political mobilisation, prosecutions of critics and confrontations between security agencies and opposition supporters.
If the colonial government was wrong to silence Africans because they demanded political freedom, an African government cannot become morally right simply because the colour of its leaders' skin has changed.
This is the central contradiction of our post-colonial condition.
We fought colonialism because we rejected the principle that one group of people should possess excessive power over another simply because history had placed them in control of the state. Independence therefore cannot logically mean replacing a white political elite with a black political elite and then asking the population to remain silent.
The oppressor does not become less oppressive because he shares the victim's complexion.
Neither does corruption become patriotic because the person stealing public resources is African.
The colonial administrator who extracted wealth from Uganda for foreign benefit exploited Uganda. The African official who diverts public resources for private enrichment also exploits Uganda. Both betray the principle that public resources exist for the welfare of the people.
The difference is that the colonial administration operated within an imperial system of foreign domination, whereas the post-colonial African government exercises authority in the name of its own people. That difference makes accountability even more necessary. A government elected or appointed to serve its citizens cannot invoke the history of colonial oppression as an excuse for reproducing the same abuses.
This is why the celebration of independence must become a celebration of accountability.
Uganda cannot continue to speak about independence while public resources are lost through corruption, procurement failures, patronage and financial leakages. The African Development Bank has identified governance weaknesses, corruption and illicit financial flows among the challenges that constrain the effective mobilisation and use of domestic resources across the continent.
Nor can we pretend that economic growth automatically means economic liberation. A country's gross domestic product may rise while inequality persists, young people remain unemployed, small businesses struggle under taxation and expensive credit, and public resources become concentrated in the hands of politically connected networks.
The measure of independence should therefore not be the size of government buildings, the number of presidential motorcades or the magnificence of Independence Day ceremonies.
The measure should be the quality of life of the ordinary citizen.
Can a mother afford healthcare?
Can a child obtain quality education without the family selling its land?
Can a graduate find meaningful work?
Can a farmer obtain a fair price for agricultural produce?
Can a young entrepreneur obtain affordable capital without political connections?
Can a journalist criticise government without fear?
Can an opposition politician organise without being treated as an enemy of the state?
Can a citizen challenge an official in court and expect the law to prevail?
Can Parliament genuinely scrutinise the Executive?
Can the courts remain independent?
Can the police protect the opposition supporter and government supporter with equal professionalism?
Can the state account for every shilling collected from taxpayers?
These are the questions of genuine independence.
Independence must also mean social liberation. It must mean that a person's opportunities are not determined by political affiliation, family connections, ethnicity, region or proximity to the centres of power. It must mean that public institutions serve citizens without discrimination, that women and young people enjoy meaningful opportunities, that rural communities are not condemned to permanent neglect, and that the dignity of a citizen does not depend on wealth or political usefulness.
A country is not genuinely free when a small, privileged group enjoys the benefits of the state while large sections of the population struggle for the basic conditions of a dignified life. Nor can we claim that independence has fulfilled its promise when public services remain inaccessible to those who need them most.
The unfair distribution of national resources is therefore not merely an economic problem. It is a constitutional and moral problem. Public resources belong to the people collectively. Their distribution should reflect public need, national priorities and the principles of fairness, accountability and equal citizenship.
When public expenditure is shaped by patronage rather than public interest, the state begins to resemble a private estate. When appointments reward political loyalty rather than competence, public administration becomes a mechanism for maintaining power. When corruption is tolerated because the beneficiaries belong to the right political circle, the rule of law becomes selective.
The colonial mentality survives whenever citizens are taught to fear authority rather than question it. It survives whenever political leaders confuse themselves with the state. It survives whenever government resources are treated as the personal property of those who control government. It survives whenever political appointment becomes a reward for loyalty rather than competence.
And it survives whenever citizens are expected to praise those in power merely because they possess power.
Uganda must therefore distinguish loyalty to the country from loyalty to a particular government. The two are not synonymous. A patriot can criticise the president, expose corruption, oppose a bad law and defend the rights of political opponents. A patriot can insist that public institutions must be accountable without being accused of betraying the nation.
Indeed, sometimes the greatest patriot is the citizen courageous enough to tell the government that it is wrong.
We must also recognise that political independence has little substance without intellectual independence. Africa must stop borrowing ideas without examining whether they serve African realities. We must develop institutions that are African in ownership but universal in their commitment to justice, constitutionalism, accountability and human dignity.
We must educate generations who understand not only the histories of European empires but also the histories of their own societies, the causes of their political struggles and the possibilities of their economic transformation. We must cultivate a political culture in which questioning authority is a civic responsibility rather than an act of disloyalty.
Uganda's independence therefore cannot be reduced to 9 October 1962.
That day was a beginning, not the conclusion, of the struggle.
The British left. The Ugandan state remained.
The colonial flag disappeared. The machinery of government remained.
The African inherited the state, but the African also inherited the responsibility to transform it.
That transformation remains unfinished.
We should not abandon the celebration entirely. We should change its meaning. Let 9 October cease to be merely a day on which politicians congratulate themselves for the passage of history. Let it become a day on which the country audits itself.
Let us ask how much political freedom we possess. Let us ask how much economic freedom we enjoy. Let us ask who controls our resources and who benefits from our public expenditure. Let us ask why our debt continues to rise, why corruption survives despite decades of anti-corruption institutions, and why a country blessed with fertile soils, minerals, oil, water and a youthful population still struggles to create enough productive employment.
Let us ask why dissent remains so uncomfortable for those entrusted with governing a republic. Let us ask why the ordinary citizen continues to experience the state more as an authority to obey than as an institution created to serve.
And perhaps most importantly, let us ask whether Uganda's independence has liberated its citizens from the colonial logic of domination or whether we have simply changed the face administering it.
This is not an argument that Uganda has achieved nothing since 1962. It would be intellectually dishonest to say so. Uganda has developed infrastructure, expanded access to education, grown its economy, strengthened its diplomatic presence and survived political and economic crises that could have destroyed the state altogether. Nor is every contemporary problem a direct continuation of colonialism. African leaders and citizens must accept responsibility for choices made after independence.
But that is precisely why the question is important.
We cannot blame colonialism forever.
At some point, the African who inherited the keys to the house must answer for what he has done with the house.
The greatest betrayal of independence is not that the colonial master left behind problems. It is that some of those who inherited power after him learned how to use those problems to reproduce their own power.
The colonial master once ruled through fear. The post-colonial ruler must never be allowed to inherit that instrument.
The colonial master once monopolised political power. The post-colonial government must never regard political competition as treason.
The colonial master once treated African resources as instruments of imperial wealth. The African government must never treat public resources as instruments of private enrichment.
Otherwise, what have we changed?
Perhaps the most uncomfortable truth about African independence is that colonialism did not disappear merely because Europeans departed. Some of its methods survived inside African institutions, and some African leaders became their new custodians.
The face became black.
The flag became African.
The anthem became ours.
But the chains, in some places, were merely repainted.
Uganda therefore does not need less patriotism tomorrow. It needs a deeper patriotism. A patriotism that loves the country enough to criticise it. A patriotism that rejects corruption even when committed by political allies. A patriotism that defends the rights of opponents. A patriotism that demands economic sovereignty rather than merely political ceremony. A patriotism that understands that the state belongs to citizens, not citizens to the state.
So, as Uganda celebrates 9 October, perhaps we should resist the temptation to declare the work finished.
Uganda became politically independent in 1962. But political independence is not the same as complete human liberation.
Economic independence remains unfinished. Institutional independence remains contested. Democratic independence remains fragile. Social independence remains incomplete. Intellectual independence remains a work in progress. For many citizens, independence remains a promise rather than a lived reality.
Perhaps, therefore, the most honest Independence Day message is not simply, "Happy Independence Day, Uganda."
Perhaps it is this: Uganda is independent in name, but the struggle for genuine independence continues.
We must finish what 1962 began.
We must build a Uganda in which national resources serve the people, the law restrains those who govern, elections genuinely reflect the will of citizens, dissent is protected rather than criminalised, public office is a trust rather than a private inheritance, and economic growth translates into dignity for the ordinary citizen.
Only then will the lowering of the Union Jack have acquired its full historical meaning.
Until then, perhaps we should celebrate 9 October not as the day Uganda became completely independent, but as the day Uganda began the unfinished journey towards becoming truly free.
And perhaps that is the independence we should still be fighting for.
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 particular emphasis on Uganda's political and legal systems. Writing from a Pan-African critical perspective, he interrogates the failures of state institutions and the lived realities of ordinary citizens under entrenched systems of power. He strongly believes that the liberation of Africa will ultimately be achieved through the mighty pen.
