the Logic of Power in Uganda

Rutamaguzi, Elections, and the Logic of Power in Uganda

In an election year, words are never innocent. When President Yoweri Museveni invoked Rutamaguzi while addressing the opposition, he was not reaching for folklore out of nostalgia. He was redefining the rules of political legitimacy at a moment when they are most contested.

Elections are dangerous for long-ruling power because they invite moral judgment. They allow challengers to speak in the language of justice, sacrifice, faith, and dignity. In Uganda, that language has increasingly been amplified by religious leaders, civil society, and a youthful opposition that frames its struggle as ethical rather than merely political. Museveni’s response was not to argue morality, but to remove it from the conversation altogether.

Rutamaguzi provides the perfect tool for that removal. He is not a historical hero with a biography, but an archetype drawn from oral political memory: the enforcer who restores order when persuasion fails. He represents authority that does not ask for permission, power that does not require approval, and order that is imposed rather than negotiated. By invoking Rutamaguzi, Museveni was quietly saying that politics is not a contest of righteousness, but a struggle over who commands the state.

This is not an abstract idea; it mirrors the logic of Museveni’s own rule. He did not come to power through elections but through armed struggle. Control preceded consent. Authority was established first and later clothed in constitutions, referenda, and ballots. Elections, in this framework, do not generate power; they confirm a power that already exists. That is the Rutamaguzi logic in modern form.

Over time, this logic has shaped governance itself. Politics has been steadily securitized. Opposition activity is often framed as a threat to stability. Protest becomes disorder; dissent becomes destabilization. The language of national security replaces the language of debate. This is not accidental. It reflects an understanding of politics as a domain where order must be protected at all costs, even at the expense of dialogue.

The invocation of Rutamaguzi also explains Museveni’s insistence that religious leaders remain in “spiritual matters.” Moral critique is dangerous to a power system built on control rather than consent. By separating spirituality from politics, Museveni strips religious voices of political legitimacy while preserving the state’s coercive authority. Kaloli Lwanga may inspire souls, but Rutamaguzi commands bodies. The distinction is deliberate.

That is why this reference emerges now, in an election year. As moral narratives grow louder and scrutiny intensifies, Rutamaguzi functions as both warning and justification. It signals that authority will not be negotiated through conscience and that order will be preserved regardless of sentiment. Any future restrictions, arrests, or force can then be framed not as repression, but as the maintenance of stability.

Yet this framing is historically selective. Pre-colonial Uganda never cleanly separated power from morality. Kings ruled through force, yes, but also through ritual, belief, and moral legitimacy. Authority was as spiritual as it was coercive. By extracting only the coercive strand and presenting it as tradition, Museveni simplifies history to serve present needs.

Ultimately, invoking Rutamaguzi is not about the past. It is about the present and the future. It reveals how Museveni understands power, how he responds to challenge, and how he wants elections to be interpreted. Not as moments when authority is granted, but as moments when authority is tested—and, if necessary, enforced.

In that sense, Rutamaguzi is less a figure from oral tradition than a mirror. He reflects a system of rule that values order over consent, control over conscience, and stability over moral approval. And when a leader reaches for such a mirror in an election year, he is telling the country something essential: this will not be a contest of ideas alone, but a contest over who holds power—and how far they are willing to go to keep it.