Transition Question by Yusuf Sserunkuma

Godwin: This is already here, Yusuf Sserunkuma. Like I explained earlier, and unfortunately, the other space collapsed, like I said on the other space we had yesterday, but one. These technologies sometimes go beyond us. They’re not entirely in our control, so sometimes it’s things we can’t handle. But yeah, we are glad that Yusuf is now finally here. Yusuf, we’ve waited for you patiently, and we are glad to have you. I’ve sent an invitation to speak. Thank you. Kindly accept it, and then you can be ushered in. So briefly, this is the fifth edition of the transition discussion that we are hosting. If you missed any of the last four, you can go and find them on the Agora handle. We’ve, for instance, hosted people like Gen Mugisha Muntu. We’ve hosted Andrew Mwenda. We also had the chance to host Daudi Mpanga. And then we hosted senior citizen Salamu Sumba.

In the interest of keeping up with these conversations, today we have academic, author, columnist—some would say controversial columnist—Yusuf Sserunkuma. And we also have a list of other eminent Ugandans lined up for this discussion. It’s not in my habit to say this before, but I will just mention that we have people like Charles Onyango obbo, who we are pursuing. People like Dr. Miriam Matembe, who we believe can contribute to this discussion very, very importantly. And they are also on our radar, and not far from being hosted. People like senior citizen Wandela Ogalo, who we are going to host for these conversations.

It goes without saying that Uganda is, all the indications show, at a very critical juncture. We have a president who is now 80 years. He’s been at the throne—I mean, he’s been in charge—for over 40 years. I think he’s the third-longest-serving president in Africa right now, behind Paul Biya and Nguema of Guinea-Bissau. Probably the third or the fourth-longest-serving president in Africa. Yeah, but when it comes to such things, the conversations that we start having, the discussions that must happen—how do we move on from here? So I’m glad that we have Yusuf today to partake in this conversation and further the discussion. This conversation is going to be recorded, so you can always come back and listen to it even after the discussion and push whichever part of it you want. So just to confirm that our guest is here—Yusuf Sserunkuma, are you here with us?

Sserunkuma: Hello, Godwin Toko, I am here. Thank you so much for having me.

Godwin: Glad, glad, glad, glad. It’s a pleasure that we have you today. It’s been a while since we last had you, and we are glad that whenever we call you to these discussions, it’s like you’re just a phone call away, and you’re always there to have the discussion. So Yusuf, without further ado, let’s begin by gauging President Museveni. Forty years—the longest-serving president in Uganda’s history. If you put together all the time the other presidents served, they wouldn’t even make half of his term. The only period that lasted longer than his is the colonial period, which went for about 69 years. But he has now served Uganda for over 40 years. If you were to gauge President Museveni with other presidents that Uganda has had, how would you rate his reign based on the facts and the events as of today, as we know them since 1986 to now?

Sserunkuma: I think, Godwin, I think Mr. Museveni would be happy to hear you ask such a question because we are used to Yoweri Museveni, you know, telling us about his reign, comparing it with the previous presidents. Yeah, that was front one of the question. This is front two. But listen first—it’s an unfair comparison. We tend to do this comparison all the time. And it’s not fair because, you know, after 40 years in power, you can only understand your reign by your own self. I don’t really believe in understanding by comparison. I really think that things can be understood on their own terms. So I think it’s not fair to often go back—how would you compare Mr. Museveni to the others? How would you compare Mr. Museveni to Idi Amin? I mean, he loves playing this game. I really think he’d be very happy to hear you ask this question because you’re really playing on his terms. OK, I think the fair question would be, you know, a fair assessment of Yoweri Museveni on his own terms. How is it? How should we think about it? Right? And I think to ask that question fairly and squarely, you have to locate Museveni in his own time. You know, yesterday you and I had this conversation privately, and I said Museveni is lucky. He’s a lucky beneficiary. He’s so lucky that the presidents that came before him were presidents in a time of immense violent confrontation between the superpowers.

Museveni becomes president—like so many men who became president in the 1980s—when there was only one single superpower. And if you’re willing to serve this superpower, you’re good to go. You could stay in office as long as you wanted, as long as you’re willing to serve this power. And Yoweri Museveni has done this so diligently. Right? And I think there was some misunderstanding before, when he had just become president, whether he was a communist or he was not. Whether he would work with the Wanainchi, whether he would empower the Ugandan masses. There was some misunderstanding at the very beginning, right? But I think 20 years in, those who knew have given us the ability at least to appreciate that there was no misunderstanding. The man was a clear-cut colonial comprador of our time.

He was more than willing to serve the interests of the empire. And I think on the African continent, the best example—the example, the most outstanding performer of serving the colonial machine—is Mr. Yoweri Museveni. He’s done absolutely fantastic. You know, I mean, recently we even read a book where the former prime minister of the UK said, there’s an archaic man—that’s how he described him—there’s an archaic president of Uganda. But we still need him for whatever he’s doing for us.…man, that’s how he described him. There’s an archaic president of Uganda, but we still need him for whatever he’s doing for us, right? So, if I were to judge Yoweri Museveni, I would judge him against his mandate. His mandate was: How am I going to serve the empire? And I think he’s done sufficiently well.

Godwin: Okay, yeah, so you’ve answered both the first and the second question because the second was to ask you about how you’d gauge him based on his own performance in this day and age. Now, that aside, I have with me here three of your articles. Very, very provocative, I must say, to the listeners.

Sserunkuma: Maybe the better ones.

Godwin: Very straightforward and candid.

Sserunkuma: I think “provocative” is a very terrible term. I think you’d rather say…

Godwin: I could say “inciting” as well. I could say “insightful” as well. I could say any of those.

Sserunkuma: I’m saying straightforward and candid.

Godwin: Fair, fair enough.

The first one that I read today says, Again, Kizza Besigye Is Not the enemy. It says a lot of stuff, but of course, it draws to that final picture where you’re saying that the deep state—those in the deep state—are making a mistake by treating Besigye like he’s the enemy of Uganda. And you say the enemy is within. And then you go on to say, fair enough, that the enemy is Museveni—not for the crimes he has committed, you say those are many—but because he has failed to give this country a clear direction of what will happen when he is no longer president. For the benefit of our listeners, can you just explain what you meant by that line—that this president has refused? Because his argument is that anytime he appoints a vice president, he’s basically saying that the constitution should be followed in case of anything. Do you buy that?

Sserunkuma: No, no, it’s not… I mean, you phrased the question with so many, you know, angles. I was thinking about giving a background, then you added another layer. Maybe I would start by giving a background to my article before we come into whether a vice president can actually take the presidency, right? Maybe a bit of background. You know, Kizza Besigye is arrested from Nairobi. And although they said it was just a pistol, the overarching idea is that Kizza Besigye—for the last two years—has been trying to start an armed rebellion against the government of Yoweri Museveni, right? So that’s the overriding assumption behind the arrest of Kizza Besigye—the allegation they’re making. And, you know, I mean, it struck me as so odd. You know, as somebody who observes African politics, it struck me as so odd. Odd in the sense that, first, at a personal level, Kizza Besigye is a man who has devoted himself to democracy—to a democratic transition. He gambled with the election three times. And on every occasion, he felt cheated, even when there was immense temptation, I think, from people around him to say, Why don’t we start an armed rebellion? Kizza Besigye wasn’t persuaded, right? When the time was so sumptuous that, you know, he’s the leading opposition candidate, and within the supportive circles, they have overwhelming evidence that he actually won the election, Kizza Besigye wasn’t persuaded to start an armed rebellion, right?

Presently, he’s old. This man is in his seventies. He’s an old man. He’s not just old, but also he’s not the leading opposition candidate, right? So at a personal level, it struck me as odd that Kizza Besigye, with all his wisdom—because as a seventy-year-old, he’s wiser—he’s thinking about starting an armed rebellion…in his best, in his best, in, in his sober mind, that starting an armed rebellion would help depose Museveni. It’s absolutely a non-starter. It’s absolutely ignorant. It’s stupid, man. It’s stupid if you think about it at those levels. Then I started wondering, What is the gamble of the deep state? What are they gambling with? Right? Then I realized—the deep state is gambling with setting up… and I could be wrong on this one—but I think they’re gambling with manufacturing Kizza Besigye into a potential hero of some sort. So—so to confuse people in the opposition between Bobi Wine and Kizza Besigye. Besigye emerges out of jail as some, some hero of some sort. Maybe they release him around May or thereabouts. And when he comes out, he’s so big, and the opposition is divided. Should we support Besigye because he has some sort of heroic status, or should we stick with Bobi Wine?

And that confusion takes them into the election. And, you know, the opposition is super divided. And Museveni wins the election. Right? That sounds to me like the most plausible gamble. Right? All the fakery around this so-called armed rebellion… The most plausible gamble for me was that they’re trying to manufacture Kizza Besigye as some sort of hero. Release him at some point after all the news and the controversy. And then also confuse the man himself to stand for the presidency. And then I said, If this is their gamble, that too is stupid. That too is absolute nonsense. It’s stupid—stupid at this level because if you’re the deep state, you are interested in preserving your interests.

If you’re the deep state, you’re interested in preserving your control over the state—the state resources. You’re interested in preserving and sustaining your control over taxpayers’ money. You want to be at the helm of things. That’s your interest. And I started working with assumptions. I think folks in the deep state are way younger than Museveni, right? Because running a country is not really a job for one man. He must have his hunger zone—like his deep hunger zone—the people that he consults with, who advise him, and whose opinions he takes. And if these men think their interest is another Museveni presidency, I think they’re really gambling the wrong way. Right. So, you know, I start that article by saying things like, I’m sure that people in the deep state are drawing simulations. They are drawing scenarios. They are mapping things. Maybe we should help them map together. Right? So I’m saying, Let’s map the thing together. If you map it together, what is the threat to your interests? If you are a member of the deep state, what would be the potential threat to your interests in the next five years, in the next ten years, in the next fifteen years? What would be the threat to your interests? Is it the opposition? I think no. Is it Kizza Besigye? No. So I wanted to impress upon them that the real threat to their collective interests—which is also a threat to our interests—is the man they are trying to protect. And in trying to protect that man, it’s not really about the crimes he has committed, but because he has reached a very difficult moment. You know… you know… I mean, 2015… 2020… before that, 2010… 2011… you know, like in the past decade, right? In the past decade—2010, 2020—we’ve all flirted with the thought that perhaps Museveni is in his last days.

Right? I think all of us, in different ways, have thought—he’s 70, he’s 75, he’s 80—as we are told, that’s his age bracket. I want to say, Maybe now, it should be more sobering. Because if you’re in the deep state, you need to prepare for an 80-year-old presidency rather than an 80-year-old president who is determined to stay in power forever. I think that’s the threat to interests. Because once he dies… and I’m not saying young people don’t die… Because, you know, one of the things that bothers me, Godwin, is that we never talk about death sufficiently enough. And I think I’m very confident speaking about death because I’m a Muslim. We talk about death all the time. You know, because I lost my father not too long ago. You know, I feel like—when you reach your 80s, clearly you’re closing in.

Right? looking at history, and history tells me that transitions in Uganda have never been peaceful. They have never been straightforward. And while it might seem like the PLU and Muhoozi Kainerugaba have positioned themselves as the “standby generator,” transitions are rarely that simple. If you assume that the moment Museveni is out, Muhoozi simply steps in without resistance, then you are ignoring the potential power struggles within the deep state itself. Because the deep state isn’t a monolith—it has factions, competing interests, and ambitions. The question is: Will everyone within the power structure agree to a Muhoozi presidency? I don’t think so. There are people in the system who have spent decades consolidating their own power, who have built networks of influence, who have ambitions beyond just serving as placeholders for Museveni’s son. Do you think they will simply fold their hands and let Muhoozi take over without a fight?

Godwin: That’s the uncertainty I’m talking about. We can look at Chad, sure. 

Sserunkuma: But Uganda is not Chad. Chad has had a long tradition of military rule, and Idriss Déby’s death happened in the middle of a war. His son took over because the military saw him as the best person to continue that war. In Uganda, the situation is different. Museveni’s rule has been largely civilian-led, with a controlled military presence in politics. If he dies or is incapacitated suddenly, the process of power transfer won’t be as clean as some people think. And that’s where the real gamble of the deep state comes in. If Muhoozi and the PLU are so confident in their “standby generator” strategy, they might underestimate the resistance from within.

From those in the ruling party who feel sidelined. From those in the security apparatus who have their own ambitions.From those in the opposition who see an opportunity. So, my position is this: Yes, Muhoozi has been preparing. Yes, the PLU has positioned itself aggressively. But Uganda’s history, its political structure, and the ambitions of other players make the transition far from a foregone conclusion. And if the deep state hasn’t fully thought through that, they are sitting on a time bomb. But if you’re 80, you’re moving closer to the grave, right? And I felt, I think the deep statement to think about this conversation. And if they have this conversation, they’ll realize that they need to prepare for a vacuum that Museveni is going to throw them into.

Serrukuma: Godwin, you want to come in here?

Godwin: Yeah, I do. So two things first. One, basically, it’s actually 68 this year, not yet 70. And then, from the other side, the state would argue that they didn’t actually say Besigye is preparing for an armed rebellion, and I’m not saying they are right. The argument is that he was preparing for something akin to an assassination of the president. That’s what they’ve always maintained. So you could register those two. Now, back to the article that you wrote again, Col Kiiza Besigye is not the enemy. In that article, you also paint this picture that the palace seems not to speak in the same accord. Where does this leave ideology man, Rwabwogo? Then, of course, you throw in Muhoozi Kaineruga, and then you throw in Elwelu, and all these other people.

From your own analysis, how divided is that group, the deep state that otherwise should hold the country together in the case of such eventuality?

Sserunkuma: You know, the two names you’ve mentioned, thank you for the clarification about Kiiza Besigye and the claims of the state against Kiiza Besigye, about the age and the claim of the state. Thank you for those clarifications. The two names you’ve mentioned, Odrek Rwabwogo, who is a son-in-law to the president, and Muhoozi Kainerugaba who is Commander of armed forces you know, we wouldn’t be talking about the utterances of these people, the claims of these people, if they were not in the positions they hold, right? If they were not in the position they hold and per their, you know, past pronouncements, right? So we’re not really far off when we discuss the thing that they say, especially Muhoozi Kainerugaba. So this tags into the question you asked me before, whether I think constitutionally Jessica Arupo, who is our current vice president, will actually take power if, God forbid, Museveni died instantly, right? I say, God forbid, to say I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s a fact of life. You know, the commander of the armed forces has told us over and over again that he’s going to be president after his father, right? Now, he’s not—he’s not—he’s not—this is not irony. You know, I am the—I’m one of those who think Muhoozi is funny, and his jokes are really, uh, they lack production, but they could be good jokes, and he could make money out of them, um, but that would be his most decent, you know, income. But he’s claiming that—that he is going to be president after his father, and he’s in charge of the armed forces. I don’t see him saluting Jessica Alupo, I don’t, right? And I could be wrong—he could be a humble public servant who respects the constitution, but, you know, I’m not so naive to be unaware of our history that, you know, we—we have a military history, and normally the men in the armed forces have often taken power, right?

So if we have a man in the armed forces who’s looking forward with glee that if my father—something happens to him—he’s going to be the next president, you know, then these constitutional provisions become useless. You know what I mean? They become useless in that context. And you have a possibly—you could—you could describe it as a very aggressive—an aggressive movement called the PLU, right? PLU is an aggressive movement, and they have—they call themselves a standby generator. They’re not kidding.
They are actually a standby generator because they have a main generator. They are not kidding. And they have done substantive things to position themselves as a substantive replacement. They have done substantive things which actually make true their claim that they are a standby generator. Now, for me to say that the constitutional provisions make no sense is because I am looking at the uncertainty and the fluidity of moments of crisis. If you enter a crisis, if you enter a crisis that you wake up one day and what happened in Tanzania under the presidency of John Pombe Magufuli has happened to Uganda, there will be absolute uncertainty. There will be absolute anxiety and sheer pandemonium, right? Especially if you have a man who has held on to power for the last 40 years, 30 years, 39 now. There will be absolute panic. And I am looking at that.

Godwin: Just to chip in at that point, if you take the example of Chad, a long-serving president dies. The son who was, I think, the army commander at that time simply takes over. If PLU, the group behind Muhoozi Kainerugaba have done so much and they have positioned themselves as the standby generator, are we not worrying too much by saying, oh, there could be uncertainty? It seems like there won’t be uncertainty. The certainty is known that if the uneventuality happened, the army commander, who is the president’s son, who has run miles trying to get ready for that seat already, as all of us watched, would become the president.

Sserunkuma: Do you see that same line? I mean, where we started this conversation, I said comparative analysis is OK. But we need to be mindful of countries’ histories. We need to be aware of our history before we jump into comparisons. And I want to stick there, that we have our history where men in uniform have taken power. It hasn’t always been bloodless. It hasn’t always been bloodless, if you look at the past periods. And I’m saying, and I hope I am wrong, Godwin. I hope I am wrong that I’m anxious. I am uncertain. I am not sure. I am nervous. And I’m passing this nervousness onto the entire state in my writing. I want my readers to feel the nervousness that I feel. This nervousness onto the entire state in my writing. I want my readers to feel the nervousness that I feel. I am nervous that if that moment happens, it won’t be as easy as happening in Chad, as you just said, right? So part of my pursuit is to pass my personal nervousness—that that moment is often panicky, pandemonium-prone, full of competing interests, and fluid. You are not 100% sure that the UPDF is as unified and professional as it claims to be. It’s not as unified or as professional as it claims to be.

So, it’s a small moment that I’m playing with—I’m playing with that moment. Although, for you, I can hear from what I hope you just asked, for the sake of the question, I guess for you, Godwin, if you are content and 100% sure that if anything happened to YKM, we would have a peaceful transition from Museveni to the commander of the armed forces, that is good for the country, right? I really think that would be good for the country—peaceful, right? If you had a peaceful, easy transition where the president dies, and the commander of the armed forces walks from wherever he is normally seated to State House and says on the radio, “I am the next president, please, everything—no more business should continue”—if that is how you feel, then good for you, my brother. And I think I’d be happy to join you.

But I’m so nervous about that moment, right? And I think as a country, we don’t talk about death enough. We don’t talk about that moment enough. We’re not talking about that moment enough. You see, because all our interests now—and I see so much pretense—it really bothers me. I see so much pretense in folks in active politics, that they’re excited about the next election. It bothers me so much that, you know, I don’t know if it’s daydreaming. I don’t know if it’s wishful thinking or if it’s being too hopeful that somehow, you know, Museveni will defeat himself in an election, and he will give them the seat, and they’ll be sworn in the next day, right?

Folks are gearing up to join parliament, but maybe somehow in parliament, they think they could do something and stabilize the country. I mean, two things here are very pertinent, Godwin. One is the absolute pretense that we don’t see Museveni suddenly coming back to power when he stands in an election. It’s pretentious to believe that. And also, members of parliament who think they can transform this country—that they have the power to do things when they’re in parliament or at any other level—it’s absolute pretense.

Those two things—if you really want to transform this country, if you really have the heart for this country—you wouldn’t be gearing up to stand in the next parliamentary election. Well, if you need some money, it’s okay. You make a lot of it if you win a seat. But if you really have heart for the country, it shouldn’t be a conversation about standing in the next parliamentary election. If you have heart for the country, it shouldn’t be a conversation about preparing for the next election. And you know, you could call me naive.

And I think people in your position are gambling with the idea that if we position ourselves as serious contenders, then if Museveni dies, we are at the table to discuss a government of national unity. I think it’s pretentious, man. I think it’s pretentious. It’s pretentious at so many levels that we are not discussing that nervous moment when we wake up one day, and someone hasn’t just overslept—they’re gone. You know, when I picture a nightmarish future, sometimes I even think it will take six months to have confirmation that Museveni is dead, right? I think it could take six months. Yeah, that’s very possible. 


Godwin: I think up in Ethiopia, something similar happened, but of course, we don’t compare.

Sserunkuma: Because you know, there will be celebration in the city, and I suspect that’s going to happen. We’ll be out. I know, because you know there will be a celebration in the city, and I suspect that’s going to happen. Baganda will be out.

Godwin: Yes, sir. Your line is breaking, yeah? Could you repeat that part where you said Baganda will be out celebrating or something of that kind? Okay. Yusuf? Henry, can you hear Yusuf? Is it me unable to hear you? Is it just—Oh, Yusuf has dropped. Okay, Yusuf, I have invited you again to come back and continue the conversation. I have sent an invitation to speak as well, so that I don’t speak to myself like I’ve just done a few minutes back.

Yeah, for those who have just joined us, we’re having a conversation with academic Yusuf Serunkuma, who is an author, a columnist, and these conversations are a series. We’ve already had four. This is the fifth. In the past, we hosted Andrew Mwenda, we hosted General Mugisha Muntu, Salam Musumba. We’ve also hosted—who is it that I’m missing?—David Mpanga.

Sserunkuma: So this conversation is about a transition, looking at Uganda past the Museveni. The fluidity, the dealing, the pushing and shoving. You know what I mean, Godwin? That if you picture that moment—yeah—and this is why I say we are not having this conversation enough. If I could switch goalposts a little bit and move into—so last week, I made an appeal to Odrek Rwabwogo & Museveni, you know, and I made an appeal to Odrek Rwabwogo Museveni or to people around him, right? They have been writing to people in the deep state that you are harassing the wrong man. He’s the best; he knows the enemy. But away from harassing the wrong man, I’m also now appealing to Odrek Rwabwogo Museveni—maybe not the man himself, but people around him, his close friends. There are things that you can do to secure Uganda, to secure the interests of your friends, but also secure the country, right?

This is the appeal I’m making now, and I want to spend a bit more time on that—maybe some five minutes. I take the example from Daniel arap Moi of Kenya, right? After 24 years in power, he felt like the people around him said to him, “You don’t have to stand again. Give Kenya a chance. Give Kenyans a chance.” Now, for them, 24 years in power felt really long then. 24 years felt like a century to them. They felt they had exhausted everything they could do. Now, for us, we’ve had our man for 38 years. It looks like he feels no exhaustion, right? It’s an interesting thing—he feels no exhaustion.

So I write carefully and non-confrontationally to say that, you know, after 38 years, I don’t think you are smart enough to continue leading the country. Not that you’re stupid, but, you know, you’ve lost the stamina. I mean, you’ve done this when you were 40, 50, 60, 70. Clearly, what you failed to achieve in those almost four decades can’t be achieved when you’re in your fifth or sixth decade. That’s my first appeal—just be aware that, you know, you’ve exhausted your time. If the experiment of Father H.S. is good enough, right? So that’s my first appeal. The second appeal is to think about mortality, which is something we never talk about enough. Think about the possibility that we are all mortals—at some point, we’re going to leave. But I don’t want to dwell on that point so much. So I quickly move to a statement: Securing the interests of the people that you love so much. Cut the posture of a statesman. How do you cut the posture of a statesman? Give us a replacement. From within your circle, appoint somebody while you’re still living to say, “This is my replacement.” And can he campaign and move this country forward without me standing in the next election?

Right? Give Uganda a democratic chance. Give it a democratic chance. Throw so much support behind a particular candidate that you like. You want to comment?

Godwin: Yeah, there are two things. One, there’s been this talk that Museveni will, by design—his own making—as much as possible, prefer to die in office. So if there’s that—and said by so many people, of course—your argument of “talk to the friends” was made, I think, almost a decade or even more back by Kamya, Betty Kamya, while she was still in the opposition. She said, “People around Museveni, you have so much to lose. Talk to this man, let him hand over properly.” And he disregarded them or ignored them. And this is almost over 10 years later, and the same is happening. That is one. So it seems like even if they talk to him, I don’t know if he would listen to them. That is the first thing.

Two, then the question becomes: With that in mind, have we, as Ugandans, pushed Museveni to that point? Two, that Moi was pushed to? Because I know that for Moi, it was not just a case of his friends talking to him. There were all these negotiations as far as Washington.

There were all these late-night calls, the outside pressure showing him that, “You see, this country is much bigger than you.” So it was not really about his friends alone. The friends were probably pushed to that point by the masses first. So do you think Ugandans—me and you and everyone on this space, and those who are not here—have done enough to not just talk to Museveni and his friends but also to push them to the point of saying, “You see, there is so much for us to lose. The whole country is at stake, and we must get this done together, or we lose it all”?

Sserunkuma: Okay. You know, I mean, starting from the point that you made—we don’t have to stop talking, right? And what I realize now is that we have stopped pushing this part of the agenda. You see, that we constantly return to elections is a fact—that we can’t tire from doing the good thing. If we think elections can give the country salvation, then we need to have different fronts. The other front is asking Museveni not to stand in the next election.

We can’t get tired of talking, right? It’s not enough to say, “Well, he ignored this conversation 10 years ago, so we should stop having it.” I think it should come back. The way we say, “We went into the last election so badly lost, or so badly cheated, but we are going to the next one,”—we’re going to the next election. So if we are able to do those things, we can also continue doing these ones as well, right? And what I’m addressing here is that, Godwin, I don’t know how much you see this conversation in the public domain, but I don’t see it. I don’t know how much you see. I don’t see it that much either.

Yeah, but also you’ve got to understand that, you know, he was 70 ten years ago. Now he’s 80. You know, so I think the more reason to have this conversation again. I know you can go up to 90, even 100. I think even in the next 10 years, this conversation has to be had again. Even in the next 10 years, it has to be had again. And then the point that you made—that he’s sworn to die in office. That’s the entire point—that we need to have this conversation, right?

Because I’m saying, if this man dies in office, this country will be thrown into pandemonium, right?That’s the nervousness I seek to address. That if this man dies in office—if this is his wish—how do we, as people in the deep state, his close friends, his wife, his brother, his medicine man, his pastor (if he has one), his children, his relatives who have so much benefited from his presidency—how do they see their interests safeguarded if the man they love so much dies in.

Perhaps that’s a better way to approach the thing, Godwin—when we look at the interests of those around Museveni. That you have interests. You have interests in continuity—of your benefit from this government. But how—how guaranteed are they if this man dies in office?
Because, as somebody who is not part of those people, I see ruin. Not only on their part, but on the part of the country.You see, the people who deposed Siad Barre in Somalia—ruin came to the entire country, not just to those who were part of Siad Barre’s government.

When you look at Sudan now, the ruin of the country is not just to those who were, you know, in Bashir’s cabinet—it’s the entire country. And that’s why I’m saying that, you know, at some point in the life of a country, an autocrat kills every other institution. That he remains the single and most powerful institution that is respected. And where all interests coalesce, right? So what I’m saying is: I think it’s that time that we appeal to this single, only standing institution.

Godwin, I want you to look back. Look around, look around, look around. I’m not sure about the UPDF either, by the way. I think really the UPDF is more divided than we actually know— and more unprofessional than we actually know.It’s just that, you know, something is around, and it’s holding it together. But I think there’s so much simmering anger inside the UPDF. Bits and pieces of it can become visible in different moments, you know? But I don’t know how much trust we have in the judiciary either— that the judiciary can hold Uganda together. You know, we right now have a Chief Justice problem, and a Court Martial problem. I don’t know how much trust we have in Parliament— that Parliament could actually hold Uganda together. I don’t know how much trust we have in Parliament—that Parliament could actually hold Uganda together. I don’t know how much confidence we have in the religious institutions—that they could give us some sense of unity and hold us together in a moment of crisis. Yoweri Museveni has humiliated and cheapened all those institutions. And all those institutions—the judiciary, Parliament, religious institutions, the academia… Look at our friends at Makerere University, where I am based. That institution, you know, back in the days when there was violence in the country, many people ran to Makerere to hide. You can’t do that anymore. Right? Look at Makerere. So what other institution do you look at and say: if calamity struck the only remaining institution, this institution can hold Uganda together?

Godwin: Yeah, I agree with you. I don’t have much confidence in any of those institutions, as you put them—Parliament, the Judiciary, the UPDF. I don’t have any confidence in any of those. And I hope I am wrong, actually. But now, you mentioned the opposition in passing. We are going to get to them later. But just to bring in one particular group of the opposition—that should be the Democratic Party wing led by Chairman Norbert Mao, who is now the Minister for Justice and Constitutional Affairs. So he makes a Memorandum of Understanding with the ruling party, the NRM, and says this is for the good of the country. “I’m going to start a conversation on transition and the future of this country after Museveni.”

Of course, before him there were the UPC people. We don’t know what kind of arrangement they also had. But the UPC, Betty Kamya’s wing of the Uganda Federal Alliance, and now the Democratic Party—for all intents and purposes—fairly within government and square. Is that a good way to go about it? Can NUP, for instance, say, “Let us go and meet Museveni, we negotiate our way out of this maze that we find ourselves in as a country, and then we can deal with the aftermath when that time comes?” Or is that something you just don’t have confidence in?

Sserunkuma: So I need to say a couple of things here. My contention is not negotiation. I’m not a negotiator, right? I am not for negotiations—because for people to negotiate, it means there are two confronting powers, two diametrically opposed powers, and they have to sit at the table, negotiate, and find a solution. I am not into negotiations. That’s point number one. Point number two: I believe reform has to be internal, not external. I am confident—this is my position—that for Museveni to see change of course, the only way this is going to happen, it will have to be internally driven, not external.

A force from outside is not going to force Museveni to change course. That’s daydreaming.
Because a force from outside—and I mean people in the opposition—they present a confrontational position. They present a threat to him. They are a threat. So I am not into “a transition” or signing Memoranda of Understanding. No, no, no. That’s not my position. I’m not into cutting deals.

Godwin: Ironically, the argument is that they go into government, and then they become internal—and because they’re internal, they can engineer the change from within.

Sserunkuma: No. Nobody now remains the president of the DP—which is an opposition party, okay? But let me—Godwin, let me develop this fully. When I say internal, I don’t mean inside the NRM. I don’t mean inside government.No, I don’t mean that either. Museveni sees NRM and people in government as opportunists. He knows that 100%. He doesn’t see them as people who love him because of what he has done for Uganda. He sees them as there to eat. He knows that. He sees them as a threat. You think Museveni respects anybody in the NRM, or even anybody in government?
He sees them as his workers—but who, at any one time, can turn against him. He sees them as a threat. So once you go in government, Museveni knows you’re an opportunist. He’s not an idiot. He doesn’t think you’re there because you love him. He knows you’re there because of opportunistic intentions. So that’s the point: I’m not into negotiation. Not into cutting deals. This is why my appeal is to people who don’t appear as a threat to Yoweri Kaguta Museveni. And that’s also why I don’t even know them. Godwin, I don’t even know these people I’m appealing to. But those people don’t appear as a threat. Museveni fully understands that—let me say—his wife… You know, I don’t know how good they are with his wife. Because sometimes our wives are a threat. I don’t know how good they are. But let’s assume—it’s his wife.If his wife said to him: “Look, we need to maybe think about the other interests of people around us—people that we love, our kindred, our friends, our relatives—we need to think about them. I think Gen Muhoozi is not being perceived as a threat to him. You see? Maybe his son— I don’t know the exact terms of their relationship— But maybe even his son is not seen as a threat. You see, whoever comes in negotiating, cutting deals,
they always cut the posture of authority over Museveni. And that’s exactly when he becomes unwilling to listen. So this is why I’m saying: change is internal. And by internal, I mean a very, very small circle of internal. People who are invisible to the public—folks such as those in the deep state, folks such as those who pray with Museveni. Museveni doctors—the ones he allows to cut into his skin to remove a tumor. You see? Those he trusts.
So I’m talking about people like that. That’s what I mean by internal. I don’t mean people like Norbert Mao and many others. So that’s what I mean by the internal circle that should be appealed to.

Godwin: Good. You want to comment on this one? Because I think I’ve exhausted that.

Sserunkuma:Yeah.

Godwin: So if I can now ask the thing that I wanted to bring up…And the language is not negotiation. The language of negotiation… no.The language is: talk.Say:
“Yusuf, do we still have you?”

Sserunkuma: I am here.

Godwin: Okay, you can continue.

Sserunkuma: Okay, did you hear the point I made? I said—when I mean change has to be internal, I mean this:The language is not negotiating.
The language is not signing memoranda of understanding.

No.

The language is:
“Let’s talk to this man.”
Say:
“Give Uganda a chance.”
“Please give us a democratic chance.”
“We love you so much.”
“You cut the posture of a statesman.”

Godwin: Okay, you’re still here, right? 

Sserunkuma: But look, you’ve already done the most dangerous thing—you gave him a seat. You gave him space. You gave him the illusion that he can stand on the side. That’s more dangerous than anything else. That posture—of giving space—that’s what we need to cut. Not this nonsense of “let’s negotiate, let’s all come to the table.” Come to the table on what terms? There’s no table. No ground for negotiation. None.

You remember this thing they called “national dialogue?” Godwin, do you recall? 

Godwin: Yeah, yeah, you heard about it, huh? I did too. I heard about it. A dialogue. 

Sserunkuma: That’s cute. But listen—for Museveni to enter a dialogue, he must first see the reason. He must ask himself, what do I lose if I don’t talk to these people who think they’re a threat to me? Nothing. What do I gain if I talk to them? Nothing. Either way, he loses nothing, and he gains nothing. So what’s the incentive? That’s the thing. You see, dialogue assumes there’s a mutual need. A mutual fear. Or at least a mutual loss. But Museveni? Ha! He sees no threat in not talking. He loses nothing by ignoring everyone. And even if he talks? Still, he gains nothing. That’s why this “national dialogue” talk? It’s hot air. On what terms are you dialoguing with a man who sees no cost in silence? He’s the boss. He knows it. Whether he speaks to you or he doesn’t—he remains the boss. Dialogue, Godwin, happens between equals. People who stand to lose something by not talking to each other. A neighbor, a rival, a co-owner. But if I stand to lose nothing? Why would I bother? Museveni? He says: no loss in talking to nobody. You get me?

Godwin: Let me pause you there. Because if the people who should be forcing that dialogue, the ones who are supposed to engineer that conversation—if they are not doing it—then there’s only one other group we have to consider. And we always criticize them. The opportunists. Call them that if you want. But I’m talking about the people from the West—and not the West of this country, I mean the West of the world.
You said it earlier. Museveni is their servant. Their most loyal servant. You referenced Moi, Kenya, yes—and I agree. A lot of those negotiations didn’t happen in Nairobi. They happened in Washington, London, Paris. That’s where the real rooms are. That’s where real decisions get made. Now let’s be selfish. Post-Museveni. Not just for us here in Uganda—but for them too. For their interests. Minerals, trade, banking, telecoms—you name it. Can we get them to help us start the real conversation? Because as far as Museveni is concerned, there’s no conversation even beginning.

Sserunkuma: But here’s the dilemma. Museveni has proved to be their best servant. Right now, yes, he’s embarrassing. But he remains the best. Embarrassing, yes—he kills people, he signs ugly laws, he bombs palaces—but still, the best.2021? He slaughtered people on the streets of Kampala. Disgraceful. He bombed a palace in Kasese. Shameful. But even with all that, they’re still hanging on to him. They still love him. Why? Because across the continent, no one has served them better than Museveni. No one. Yes, he’s a mess. He’s a PR nightmare. But in DRC? He served them. In Somalia? He served them. Rwanda, Afghanistan, you name it. The refugee problem? Oh, he’s been a godsend. The Mzungu doesn’t want Black people showing up in Europe. Museveni? He said, “Bring them here. Uganda is open.” Imagine that.

He gave them peacekeeping troops, refugees, market access, minerals, military bases, surveillance tools—he gave them everything. The man has bent backwards in every way possible. So yes, Godwin—they all know. 120 percent, they know—Museveni is their best. Even when he embarrasses them, they’d rather keep him than risk someone who might actually believe in sovereignty. And that, my brother, is the trap. You see, with all he has done for them, when Mzungu comes here, they are shocked—amazed, actually—at just how much they can get away with in Uganda. And that’s because Museveni has done a spectacular job for Mzungu. Truly. He’s the best they’ve ever had on the continent. No question.

So now we are in a dilemma. A real bind. Because appealing to Mzungu? It doesn’t work. They’ve not yet found a replacement. And they have urgent crises to deal with. Refugees, for example. Museveni just told them: Bring all of them. Uganda is open. Everyone is welcome. Meanwhile, he’s sending mercenaries to Afghanistan. Holding the fort in Somalia. Holding the fort in South Sudan. In DRC? He’s even building roads for them. I’m telling you—he is the best they have.Even William Ruto, who’s busy flirting with Mzungu, they still tell him, “Go to Oman first.” You’re not yet close enough. You’re not Museveni. That’s the man we’re dealing with. So this idea of running to Mzungu first? No. He’s their man. So we have to appeal to this man. I know—it sounds bizarre. It sounds disgusting even. Godwin, I hate to say this, but at this point? We need to plead with Museveni. I don’t like how that feels. It leaves a bad taste. But where we are now? That’s our only route. We need to present our plea as something in his self-interest. Does that make sense?

Yeah, yeah, it does. It must be framed as something for his legacy, for his grandchildren. Something he can own. Because he’s the one we have to deal with. And you know, one thing Museveni understood very early: if you want to stay in power in Uganda, you have to be best friends with the European establishment. Museveni governs in Uganda, yes—but he governs on their behalf too.

Godwin: Now, let me bring in a third group. Another class of power we don’t often talk about directly. The Asian minority. You and I have discussed this before. You once argued they were not the colonialists, but the sub-colonialists. There’s even a whole book calling Uganda an Indian colony. Their role in the economy is staggering. One figure says they control up to 75% of Uganda’s non-food GDP. That figure, of course, is contested. Some say they don’t own the wealth—they’re just tax collectors. That they pick taxes from us and pay up to the powers above. But the facts remain—they’ve held a critical space, and they were a very big issue in the 70s. So now, in 2025, with a president turning 80, and everything around him shaking and uncertain—where do they fall in all this? Are they as worried as we are? Do they see the coming storm? Do they fear that history might repeat itself, that it might slide back into a 70s scenario—which, I assume, was very unpleasant for them? And yes, —I know, you’ve argued before that the 70s weren’t all unpleasant for them. That there were advantages. That’s another debate. But still—where are they in the Museveni succession equation?

Sserunkuma: Now, about that 75% figure—you’re right, I’ve seen it quoted. But I don’t know if tax collection in Uganda even records ethnicity anymore. When URA comes to your shop, I doubt they ask for your tribe or race. So we have to treat that figure carefully.

Godwin: But let’s forget the number. Let’s focus on the reality: There is a powerful economic minority in Uganda. Many of them not indigenous Ugandans. Where do they stand in the transition?

Sserunnkuma: And here’s the thing. Museveni has flung open the gates to investors. Everyone is coming. Indians, Pakistanis, all sorts. Many of these are legitimate business people. They’re not chopping forests or grabbing land. They’re not stealing resources. They’re running restaurants. Supermarkets. Driving boda bodas even. But then, there’s a select group—the elite circle. The land tycoons. The ones who appear in Parliament. There’s a man with 700 land titles—Mount Adida story. That’s a different breed altogether. That’s a proper front-line class. Still, I wouldn’t say they’re as visible now as they were in the 70s. Not in the same way. They don’t come off as the symbolic extractors of African wealth anymore. They’re quieter now. Low-key. Like—you can name one or two: maybe Sudhir Rupayelia, who owns a few prominent things. But the rest? They own the invisible economy.

Banking? Telecoms? Hard to say who’s behind them. Remember, the last big Indian bank here was Crane Bank. It’s gone. So the new thieves in banking, if you want to call them that, don’t wear turbans. And in telecoms, it’s murky. So yeah—they’re here, they’re present, they’re powerful—but they’re not loud. They’re watching. And probably hedging their bets. Because they too know that when power shifts in Uganda, it shifts violently. I mean telecoms we don’t know who they are I mean all these are possibly from South Africa and from the UK I mean the mining sector I’m not sure you can say the gold mining is Indians coffee trade is Indian it’s not is you can’t say that today as it were then because then these people dominated every single aspect of the economy it’s not it’s not as explicit as it is today right and I don’t mean to downplay their position but it’s not as explicit as it was today in fact I’m imagining in in our next crisis they could be ignored if if calamity struck Museveni.

 I would argue they could be ignored that’s point number one but then point number two they still have a buffer right they still have a buffer that the people who have you know propped Museveni into the presidency are their masters to one of the deals that Museveni negotiated when taking the presidency with the the our former colonizers was to return properties paid for by Idi Amin back to the Indians that’s one of the deals he negotiated and he has been doing that and the Indians know it and they and the UK knows it so they they still have a buffer they still have their good father in the UK right they still have their good father in the international community that if anything happened if anything happened the next president will still have to negotiate this conversation with the same god fathers will have to you know make sure that the interest are protected at the same time.

I’m not saying it’s gonna be really easy but I’m saying they still have the buffer but you know they are here protected by Museveni when taking power in 1986 right so that would be my response to that okay.

Godwin: now I get the gist of your argument that Museveni has failed to the success and all that how would that play out when would you know that was even has chosen a successor what are the signs you look out for and all the success. It looks like this time you have done the right thing you have picked this person and we can move on with this it doesn’t have to be like like a puzzle you know it doesn’t be a crossword puzzle to figure out that is this now the part of the success or not some have to explicitly come out and say I am not standing and so and so should stand or so and so 

Speaker:
I’m resigning, so I should take power and organize an election in the next two or three years—right? That’s the point. It doesn’t have to be some cryptic crossword puzzle. We need clarity. The uncertainty must end. This is my plea.

I’m not saying this process should turn into a guessing game—where we start gambling on who’s been appointed, who’s received the blessings, who’s being positioned. That kind of ambiguity only breeds speculation, anxiety, nervousness, and national uncertainty.

What we need now is for President Museveni to cut the posture of a statesman. He still has that chance. Thanks to his political genius—yes, genius—he’s eliminated all other competing institutions. He is now the only bull left in the kraal. And because of that, he alone has the opportunity to rise above politics and behave like a statesman. We need him to do this clearly, explicitly—not in ways that leave the country second-guessing or wondering whether the person being groomed has the mettle to lead. That’s what I mean. I’m not suggesting that he should appoint his son as Vice President so that we all start gambling again, wondering what that means. No. It shouldn’t be a crossword puzzle. The message must be clear. That way, we can deal with our national anxiety and nervousness. 

Let’s be honest: nobody is going to beat Museveni in the next election—not under the current setup. But we don’t know if we’ll even make it to that next election. So the appeal here is this: let Museveni come out and say, “I’m giving the NRM a chance to select another candidate. I will not express interest in standing again.” Then the NRM would be free to rally behind this new candidate. The candidate would go out, campaign, and have the full backing of the system. I’m not calling for sainthood. But we must move away from signs, speculation, and coded language. That only prolongs our collective nervousness.

And that nervousness? It’s not just among us, the wanainchi. The uncertainty affects international interests, the military, and other critical stakeholders. The more we are kept in this fog of ambiguity, the worse it is—for the country, for the military, for Museveni’s own interests. If he ever comes around—and I hope he does—and says, “I now want to be a statesman,” then let that be said clearly. As clearly as it can be. That’s all we ask.

Godwin: Earlier, you mentioned the opposition and disagreed with the idea of running for office as the main way to address the transition. So, if you were the leading opposition figure in Uganda today, what would your strategy be to further the conversation on post-Museveni transition?

Sserunkuma:
I don’t want to play that game. I don’t want to imagine myself as the leading opposition figure, because that forces you to take a confrontational posture—and I don’t want that. Right now, we should be focusing on competing in a post-Museveni political space. That’s where the future lies. I’m not interested in fighting Museveni. Even if I were the leading opposition figure, that would be an imagined kind of power. The reality is, even with that role, you’d still need to beg Museveni for space, for permission. I’m trying to position myself as someone who sees the danger ahead. Someone who understands the uncertainty of what’s coming. I’m not saying we should boycott Museveni’s elections—I’m not a boycotter. What I’m saying is, we need an equally powerful counterforce. We need to convince Museveni and those around him that it’s in their best interest to safeguard Uganda’s democracy. That it’s good for his legacy, good for his friends’ survival, and good for the country. That’s the kind of force I want to represent. Do you understand me, Godwin?

Godwin:
Yes, I do.

Sserunkuma: If Museveni isn’t on the ballot in the next election, I would consider running. That would be a true opportunity to reset the country. We could finally have real conversations about Uganda’s future without constantly circling back to Museveni. Right now, everything—every institution—is frozen in place, waiting for Museveni to speak. Parliament, the judiciary, the police—everyone holds their breath, waiting for his next move.

Godwin:
So the whole country is in limbo, waiting for one man to decide what happens next. The deep state, his inner circle—they’re the ones pulling the strings. And we need to break free from that.

Sserunkuma:
Exactly. It’s not right. It’s not necessary. We shouldn’t run a country like this, with everything held hostage to one person’s decisions.

Godwin: Alright, I think your point has landed. Let’s open the floor to the audience. You’ll each have a minute to ask a question or make a comment—no greetings please, just go straight to the point. Let’s get started.