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Federalism and Uganda’s unfinished political settlement

Frank Bulira Kabinga speaking during the NMG Presidential Debate on Nov.30 at Kampala Serena International Conference Centre. COURTESY PHOTO/NATION MEDIA GROUP.

Whether Uganda takes the federal path or not, the country can’t escape debate on how power is distributed, and who benefits from status quo

COVER STORY | RONALD MUSOKE | When Frank Bulira Kabinga stepped onto the podium at the Nation Media Group’s televised Presidential Debate on November 30, the Revolutionary People’s Party (RPP) flag bearer did not bother with the usual political preambles. He went straight for the one topic Uganda’s political class often treats with caution, avoidance, and sometimes suspicion: federalism.

“Uganda’s problem,” he declared, as cameras zoomed in, “is President Museveni and the very nature of the governance system. Even if Museveni left today, without changing this system, Uganda cannot move forward.”

For a country with decades of centralised rule, and where the word “Federo” still provokes strong reactions, this was not the typical campaign message. Kabinga was not simply revisiting an old debate. He was re-opening a wound Uganda has never healed from.

Kabinga’s argument was uncompromising. He said that within the first 100 days of his presidency (if he won the 15 January 2026 polls, which he said he would), he would “shift Uganda to a federal system with sixteen federal states,” a transition he described as both administrative and economic. He promised to change the country’s official name to the “Democratic Federal Republic of Uganda.”

Kabinga’s claim was that federalism would decentralise opportunities, dismantle corruption networks, and restore dignity to local governance. It was reminiscent of the arguments heard in the early 1990s before the promulgation of the 1995 Constitution, except that Kabinga’s version carried a modern twist. He invoked the example of the United Arab Emirates, where individual emirates power their own development.

“What we need,” he argued, “is a system that decentralises opportunity and protects local identity.” He said he is interested in Ugandans in the “16 states” benefitting from their natural resources; Bunyoro tapping more into its oil and gas fields, Ankore benefitting more from its longhorned cattle and dairy products, and  Sebei, from its unique sweet bananas.

For many in the Kampala Serena International Conference Centre auditorium, the word “Federalism” was enough to awaken decades of memories; the agitation by Buganda Kingdom, the stormy 1962–1966 period, and the endless political negotiations that have failed to settle the question.

But Kabinga did not couch his proposal in cultural terms. Instead, he framed it as a national development plan, promising to professionalize the security sector, demilitarize the police, and raise officers’ salaries to “US$500 plus regional allowances,” all under a federal arrangement that he believes would restore trust in government.

“As the Revolutionary People’s Party, we are looking at having police and intelligence services that don’t persecute or torture citizens, but rather help in building the country and bringing about sanity and following the constitution of the Republic of Uganda,” he said.

“We are looking at strengthening community policing and improving the welfare plus training of our police force. In fact, the RPP is going to change the name of Uganda Police Force to Uganda Police Service. Police is supposed to be a service, like in other countries.”  He added: “Police s going to be a service, not a force. Mr. Museveni did it deliberately to call it a force,  and he  keeps calling it a force, so that it can be used to cause brutality to innocent Ugandans.”

For some, Kabinga’s message may sound ambitious; for others, provocative. But his intervention has revived a conversation long suppressed by political expediency. And as Uganda approaches the 2026 general elections, the old question returns: Why does federalism continue to haunt Uganda? And why does it still divide opinion along deep cultural and political lines?

To answer that, one must step into Uganda’s layered history, the inherited tensions of colonial rule, the failures of decentralization, and the contemporary frustrations that politicians like Kabinga are tapping into.

In this photo taken on 31 October 2025 at Speke Resort Munyonyo in Kampala, Rafael Magyezi, the Minister of Local Government cuts tape in a ceremony that saw him handover 176 brand new vehicles to LCV, City Mayors and Municipal Leaders across the country as part of fulfillment of President Yoweri Museveni’s pledge to avail them vehicles. COURTESY PHOTO/Ministry of Local Government X handle.

A country shaped and divided by its origins

Uganda’s governance story begins with asymmetry. Long before the idea of a Ugandan nation, there were powerful kingdoms and loosely organised chiefdoms. Buganda, Bunyoro, Toro, and Ankore held structured political institutions, while other areas had decentralized chieftaincies.

When British colonial rule arrived, it entrenched these differences rather than harmonizing them. Through the 1900 Buganda Agreement and similar deals with Toro (1900), Ankole (1901), and Bunyoro (1933), the British created a system where Buganda, in particular, enjoyed quasi-autonomous powers; its own Parliament (Lukiiko), its own administrative system, and its own land tenure.

This arrangement deeply shaped Uganda’s political imagination. When independence came on 9 October 1962, the new state inherited a constitution that acknowledged this asymmetry, granting Buganda federal status and offering other regions semi-federal arrangements. It was a compromise; fragile, contested, yet reflective of historical realities.

Then came 1966.

Prime Minister Milton Obote’s abrogation of the constitution and the subsequent attack on the Lubiri not only destroyed the federal structure but also altered Uganda’s governance trajectory. Federalism was abruptly replaced by a centralised system. From that moment, the relationship between Buganda and the central government would become a recurring point of contention, while other regions, many already suspicious of Buganda’s perceived privilege, remained wary of returning to a system they believed could re-empower the kingdom. Federalism, once a constitutional reality, became a political taboo.

Buganda’s persistent federal claim

Today, federalism is strongest in Buganda not because of nostalgia, but because it is tied to tangible issues of land, identity, and political memory. The unresolved question of the so-called “9,000 square miles” remains a symbolic marker of dispossession. For Buganda’s leadership, federalism represents the restoration of constitutional rights lost in 1966. That historical injury has outlasted generations.

The late Prof. Yasin Olum observed in his 2013 study titled, “The Federal Question in Uganda,” that the central region (Buganda) has a particularly deep emotional attachment to the idea of federalism because many residents “fuse federalism with monarchism.” But he also pointed out that experts understand the concept as a modern governance model, not a monarchical revival. His research revealed both clarity and confusion, noting that while scholars and policymakers see federalism as a structural arrangement, many ordinary citizens interpret it through the lens of cultural identity.

Prof. Olum’s data also showed that the support for federalism, though strongest in Buganda, is not limited to it. In Kayunga and Masaka districts, support stood at 60%; in Kampala and Jinja, around 48–50%. Even Arua, in Northwestern Uganda, registered 40% support, suggesting that federalism is, at its core, a governance concern rather than a purely cultural one.

Map of Uganda showing the Uganda Protectorate British administrative regions of the country. Frank Bulira Kabinga, the presidential flag bearer for the Revolutionary People’s Party wants to revive a federal system of government by creating 16 federal states. COURTESY PHOTO/WIKIMEDIA COMMONS.

“Fifty-nine percent of respondents across all regions believe federalism could work,” Olum found, citing reasons such as improved accountability, better service delivery, and reduced central government dominance. Yet, Buganda remains the epicentre of federal advocacy. Cultural institutions play a central mobilizing role, and the memory of the 1962 arrangement is far stronger there than anywhere else.

Indeed, from Kabaka Ronald Muwenda Mutebi’s early negotiations with the NRM government in the 1990s, to Mengo’s repeated petitions, Buganda’s demand has been consistent; restore FEDERO, not as privilege, but as constitutional fairness. But the rest of Uganda has not always been comfortable with this demand.

In Prof. Olum’s study, the majority of respondents mentioned challenges that could constrain the adoption of federalism in Uganda including; confusion and contestation regarding the meaning of federalism in Uganda; constitutional issues, land, language, defining the boundaries of federal states; imbalances in natural resources; insufficient social capital, difficulties regarding how to introduce federalism, ethnic and cultural issues, lack of political will.

A nation divided by fear and misunderstanding

Federalism’s national reception has often been shaped by suspicion. Outside Buganda, concerns range from historical grievances to fears of economic imbalance. Some see federalism as a project that would disproportionately strengthen Buganda, whose early colonial advantage already made it politically prominent. Others fear that cultural institutions could overshadow elected leaders in federal units.

Prof. Olum noted that misunderstandings complicate the debate. “Many equate federalism with monarchical authority,” he wrote, even though federalism is a political, not cultural, arrangement.

Then there is the question of resources. Regions with limited revenue fear being left behind under a system where states retain greater control of local income. This fear has been exacerbated by the proliferation of districts (over 140 today), each with a fragmented identity and tenuous administrative capacity. The idea of merging these districts into cohesive federal states presents political and institutional challenges. These fears help explain why the regional tier, introduced in the 1995 Constitution as a compromise, never took off.

The Regional Tier Government: A half-measure that satisfied no one

Since the early 1990s, decentralisation has been Uganda’s answer to federalism. The NRM government argued that empowering districts would achieve what federalists demanded; local autonomy, improved service delivery, and citizen participation. But over time, decentralisation became overburdened, underfunded, and politically manipulated.

Local governments depend almost entirely on central grants; districts lack adequate revenue sources., administrative capacity is thin and with the multiplication of districts, often for political reasons, decentralisation has produced administrative fragmentation rather than stronger local governance.

According to Jonas Mbabazi Musinga, a Research Fellow at the Advocates Coalition on Development and Environment (ACODE), a Kampala-based public policy thinktank, the regional tier was meant to strike a delicate balance– recognise cultural heritage while strengthening decentralization.

Under Article 178 of the Constitution, districts could voluntarily converge into regional governments linked to cultural areas. But as Musinga noted, the regional tier lacked meaningful power.  “The regional tier was given no taxation authority, no control over land, and no real policymaking role.”

As such, Musinga told The Independent that  the system appeared more symbolic than functional, neither addressing Buganda’s demands nor reassuring regions wary of cultural dominance.

An oil rig drilling an oil well in the mid-western region of Bunyoro. Kabinga wants a bigger portion of the money earned from natural resources such as oil and gas to remain in the hands of the local administration so it benefits local Ugandans. COURTESY PHOTO.

District leaders also resisted it. They feared losing their already limited autonomy to sub-national regions. Musinga observed that “despite efforts to strengthen local government, districts remain financially dependent and administratively weak,” undermining the very decentralisation the regional tier was meant to deepen. Fragmented district identities meant many local leaders could not envision pooling authority with neighbouring districts under a regional government.

For instance, in Buganda Kingdom, the regional tier was dismissed outright. It was too modest to satisfy centuries-long claims. For opponents of federalism, it was too close to empowering cultural institutions. The result: paralysis. Musinga concluded bluntly: “Without political consensus, the regional tier cannot work. And without real power, it cannot satisfy federal aspirations.”

It is this failure that makes federalism appealing again. Many Ugandans are frustrated that despite decentralisation, decisions remain centralised, services remain slow, and local leaders remain financially powerless. For them, the federal idea is not cultural, it is structural.

Norbert Mao’s call for a new political consensus

In one of the strongest intellectual articulations of federalism in recent years, Norbert Mao, the current Minister of Justice and Constitutional Affairs, in his 2009 address of the Buganda Conference argued that Uganda needs a fundamental renegotiation of power and governance.

Mao’s seminal paper delivered on 17 December 2009 was titled, “Who fears Federalism? A Case for Federalism in Uganda.” He said Uganda’s political trajectory is marked by “failed settlements”: the 1962 arrangement, the 1980 transition, and the NRM’s decentralisation model. He warned that without a new consensus, Uganda risks repeating its cycles of centralization and conflict.

Mao described federalism as an antidote to authoritarian tendencies: “Federalism disperses power and with it disperses the opportunity for dictatorship.” He ridiculed the regional tier as “a pain killer treating a cancer with Vaseline,” insisting that only genuine federalism, a system built from the grassroots, could resolve Uganda’s governance challenges. His point was simple: decentralisation without autonomy is merely administrative; federalism, properly negotiated, is democratic.

“The historical record is there for all to see. Wasn’t the consensus crafted on the eve of independence brutally demolished in 1966 – before some of us were born? Wasn’t the post-Amin consensus trampled over by a capricious and malevolent clique which masterminded the disputed elections of 1980? isn’t the consensus crafted in the bushes of Luweero (the birthplace of the NRM) for all intents and purposes dead? We need a new consensus,” Mao said.

“The great expectations aroused by the ascendancy of the NRM into state power have been met with treachery and betrayal. This is not the time for lamenting over the mistakes of past. We cannot change the past but we can learn from it. If we cannot pick up the pieces let us pick up the lessons and move on. It is important to learn from history but we must not become perennial prisoners of history. Politics, it is said, is the gentle art of getting support from perceived rival groups by promising to protect each from the others.”

“In Uganda, the eve of independence saw the ill-fated alliance of Kabaka Yekka (YK) and the Uganda Peoples Congress (UPC) whose glue was a common fear of the Catholics. In 1980, the UPC galvanized support by promising to protect the country from a resurgent Buganda. In Gulu the UPC leaders told the public that if they make the mistake of electing Dr. Paul Kawanga Ssemogerere, they will be forced to carry bricks and stones all the way to Kampala to rebuild the Lubiri which had been ransacked in 1966.”

“This trend of using fear rather than hope has continued. The NRM has circled the political wagon in the South of the country by dangling the so-called Northern bogeyman at every election. The horrors of our violent history are deeply etched in our national psyche and these are the scars that are manipulated to lock out potential leaders and groups associated with them. This is what happened on the eve of independence.”

“The NRM rhetoric has been the rhetoric of divide and rule. The NRM had endeared itself to most of the South by claiming that its mission is to prevent the Northerners from returning to power. It is true that many political and military leaders originating from the North bear responsibility for certain atrocities visited upon innocent people, and it is right that we should not just sweep things under the carpet.”

However, Mao said Uganda should not get paralyzed by its memory. “We should remember these horrors. But we should do better than just remembering. We should overcome and rise above our dark past. I believe in individual responsibility for individual crimes. I don’t believe in impunity. But something in my soul rebels against the politics of assigning collective responsibility upon an entire ethnic group for crimes committed by individuals.”

“We do not choose our tribes. I did not fill an application form to become an Acholi. I detest being judged on the basis of my ethnic origin. Above all, I know that all ethnic groups have bad  people and good people. Virtue is not a monopoly of a particular ethnic group and neither is evil.”

“In the North, we feel besieged by the post 1986 politics of heaping the collective guilt for all the historical wrongs upon the people of Northern Uganda. Yet the record is different. There are bright moments in our common history. In times of danger, faced with colonial repression our traditional leaders have always sought refuge with their allies.”

Tourist vehicles queue up at the Masindi Gate of Murchison Falls National Park as they wait to be cleared to allow tourists access to the park. Millions of dollars in tourism revenue is earned from tourist attractions such as Murchison Falls N.P every year but only 20% of the park entry fees return to the people neighbouring these parks. INDEPENDENT PHOTO/RONALD MUSOKE.

Although Mao’s arguments were made 16 years ago, they appear to resonate with Kabingo’s 2026 campaign message, albeit from different political traditions. Both men see centralization as the root of Uganda’s problems: corruption, inefficiency, inequity, and political domination. And both believe that empowering regions is essential for national healing.

Kabinga’s modern federalism

Unlike earlier federal advocates whose arguments were often intertwined with cultural restoration, Kabinga presents federalism as an economic model. He promises localised resource management, regional employment, and competition among federal states. He argues that this would reduce the human pressure on Kampala, where youth unemployment and congestion have become national crises.

In the NMG Presidential debate, he illustrated his point with the example of the Sebei region of eastern Uganda: “People should not be coming all the way to Kampala to seek work if their region can manage the resources at their doorstep.”

He accused the current system of enabling corruption by concentrating financial power at the centre, saying that “poverty alleviation programmes have become conduits of fraud.” His alternative, the Federal Economic Empowerment Programme, is designed to vest development decisions in regional units.

Kabinga also reframed federalism as a security strategy. By recruiting and employing police and intelligence officers from and in their own regions, respectively, he believes Uganda can build trust and reduce conflict. His pledge to rename the Uganda Police Force to the Uganda Police Service—thereby de-emphasizing militarization—was part of a broader philosophy that local familiarity improves policing.

Whether voters find his campaign rhetoric persuasive remains uncertain. But Kabinga’s framing reflects a shift in federal discourse; from the historical to the practical, from cultural autonomy to socio-economic transformation.

The attitudes captured in Prof. Olum’s research in 2013 reveal a nuanced national mood. Many Ugandans—across several regions—see federalism as a potential solution to governance failures. They cite the need for accountability, improved service delivery, and reduced central dominance. They want government closer to their lives.

Yet fears persist; boundary disputes, tribal tensions, and the possibility of creating uneven development. Much of this anxiety stems from misunderstanding federalism’s mechanics. Many imagine it as a breakup of the country or a return to monarchy-led government. For others, federalism is associated with Buganda’s historical dominance.

“Politically, most people have viewed FEDERO as part of the historical Buganda Nationalism, and therefore, (federalism) has received little support outside Buganda,” Musinga told The Independent.

However, other political analysts say the reality is that Ugandans both desire and fear federalism, a contradiction created by history, shaped by political messaging, and intensified by decades of centralised governance.

But federalism cannot be resolved through campaign promises alone. It requires constitutional negotiation, political courage, and national dialogue. It requires reconciliation between regions and a clearer understanding of what federalism means in a modern state. It also requires honesty: Uganda has tried decentralisation and found its limits. It tried the regional tier and found it hollow. It tried centralization and found it prone to abuse. Federalism, for all its controversies, offers a chance to reset the conversation. So, just like Mao asked in his seminal paper during the 2009 Buganda Conference, who exactly is afraid of federalism in Uganda?

 

 

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