Drafted Gesture for National Unity
For four decades, the National Resistance Movement (NRM) has been the defining force in Uganda’s political landscape. Under the stewardship of President Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, the country has witnessed periods of relative stability and economic growth. Yet, as we approach this significant milestone, we must engage in a sober, honest reflection. A regime that has had one leader for forty years has, by any measure, reached the end of its natural life cycle. The final vision for this era should not be about perpetuating power, but about securing the nation’s future through a dignified and inclusive transition. The path to this transition, and to a truly unified Uganda, lies not in the tired politics of the past, but in the formation of a genuine government of national unity.
The recent cooperation agreement between the NRM and the Democratic Party (DP), which saw DP President Norbert Mao appointed as Minister for Justice and Constitutional Affairs, is a significant step in this direction. It is a gesture that, for the first time in a long while, offers a glimmer of hope for a political realignment that transcends the sectarian divides that have historically plagued our nation.
President Museveni himself framed this partnership within a grand historical context in a recent address, tracing the “fourth attempt by patriots to unite the people of Uganda politically.” He took us on a journey from the Uganda National Congress (UNC) in 1952, through the UNRF in 1979, to the broad-based NRM government of 1986. His analysis of the 1962 elections is particularly revealing:
“You can see this in the elections of 1962. No party could get a majority… Why? Because they had fragmented the people of Uganda politically. That’s why they had to form the coalition, or Omkago, as they were calling it, between UPC, 37 seats, KY, 21 seats. That’s how they got 58 and formed the government. But within two years, the Omkago broke up the coalition. So, and then we went into chaos. The 1966 crisis, Idi Amin in 1971, the killings until 1986.”
This is a profound and accurate admission. The President correctly identifies the “mistake of not achieving broad unity in Uganda” as the root cause of our post-independence suffering, “the dying, the economic collapsing.” He acknowledges that tribal coalitions, like the UPC-KY alliance, are fragile and opportunistic, destined to crumble and plunge the nation into chaos.
This is where the conversation becomes critical. The President speaks of bringing back the “30 to 40 percent” who left the NRM fold, using the biblical parable of the lost sheep. He frames the current overtures to opposition figures like Mao and others as a deliberate effort to reunite Ugandans. He states, “your problems are the same, the Ugandans. They need water. They need income. They need roads. They need education. They need security. So, what are you differing on exactly?”
This is the right question, but it demands a deeper, more uncomfortable answer. The difference, as I have explored in my article, The Hidden Face of Racism is the internal tribal solidarity that amplifies ethnic bias. This is a legacy bequeathed to us by colonial powers and unfortunately reinforced by post-independence political elites. The “tribal solidarity” the President rightly criticizes in the Kabaka Yeka (KY) movement of the 1960s has not vanished. It has simply evolved. It has permeated the very fabric of our national institutions, including, many would argue, the NRM itself.
While the NRM’s structure of Resistance Councils was a noble attempt to create non-partisan, issue-based unity, the reality on the ground often tells a different story. Access to services, opportunities, and even justice is frequently perceived to be filtered through the lens of ethnic connection and political loyalty. The recent election cycles have been fraught with uncertainties, accusations of rigging, and a palpable sense of disenfranchisement among large sections of the population. This is the “hidden face” of the problem—a system where, despite a rhetoric of unity, tribal solidarity remains a powerful, unspoken currency.
This is why Norbert Mao’s appointment is so symbolically important. It is more than just a cabinet post; it is a chance to correct the historical course. Mao, a longtime critic and leader of a party historically associated with a specific religious demographic (the Catholics, as the President noted), now sits at the heart of government. This is a powerful signal that the NRM is, perhaps, ready to move beyond its own internal solidarities.
The President’s narrative of successive failed attempts at unity serves as a stark warning. We have seen the UNC crack, the UNRF break up, and the UPC-KY coalition collapse into violence. The broad-based government of 1986 lasted a decade before fracturing. The current situation, with the NRM as the dominant force and the opposition fragmented, is not a sustainable equilibrium. It is a recipe for the same cycle of instability the President so eloquently described.
Therefore, endorsing this new chapter with Norbert Mao is not an endorsement of the NRM’s forty-year tenure. It is an endorsement of a process. It is a recognition that the final, most crucial vision of this regime must be to facilitate a government of national unity—one that is not just a coalition of convenience, but a genuine partnership aimed at healing the deep-seated sectarian wounds that have held us back.
This means the cooperation must be more than cosmetic. It must lead to tangible constitutional and electoral reforms that guarantee fairness, inclusivity, and a level playing field for all. It must dismantle the structures of patronage and ethnic favoritism that have become entrenched. It must pave the way for a transition that is peaceful, democratic, and reflective of the will of all Ugandans, not just the solidarity of a few.
The final vision for the NRM after forty years should not be about how to win or engineer the next election, but about how to ensure that Uganda can finally, after decades of trying, achieve the broad, sustainable political unity that has eluded us since 1952. Beyond tribal solidarity is not just a slogan; it is the only hope for a peaceful and prosperous Uganda. The olive branch extended to Norbert Mao is a start. The question is whether it will lead to a genuine olive grove, or just another fragile branch in a long history of broken ones.
Learn more about the Author here; Philip Kakungulu
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