Category: Uganda Law Society

LET MY LAWYERS GO!, the National Legal Education Center Bill and the Independence Journey of Uganda’s Legal Profession.

In Pharaoh’s Uganda, dreams bleed at the Law Development Centre’s gates. In 2024 alone, over 1,500 aspiring lawyers were barred from the Bar Course—a tenth plague, slaughtering futures.

“The state’s iron whip chains. lawyers to bake bricks for tyranny rather than wield shields for the people.”

To the village Barraza, this is no mere law school tale. It is a war for justice: bills rise, warriors roar. Will the National Legal Examinations Centre Bill 2025 free Uganda’s advocates—or forge fresh shackles?

The Brickyard of Colonial Chains

Before independence, the British Pharaoh feared lawyers. In the 1940s, Apollo Milton Obote’s law scholarship was blocked; The British did not want him or someone from Lango to study law at the time. He later championed the struggle for Uganda’s independence alongside other nationalists like I.K Musaazi and Jolly Joe Kiwanuka, among others. The political Independence came in 1962, but lawyers remained baking bricks, facilitating dictatorship rather than defending rights.

Image: Dr. Apollo Milton Obote. Former Primer Minister and first Executive President of Uganda.

The 1956 Uganda Law Society, Act, Cap 305, chained lawyers in Pharaoh’s brick yard, crushing their independence and autonomy by imposing state law officers, the Attorney General and Solicitor their governing council. This effectively led to state capture, aligning the legal profession with the colonial power’s interests instead of advancing the rights of the colonized peoples. The 1970 Advocates Act, Cap 295 further entrenched the chains: the Law Council, chaired by a judge who is appointed by the Attorney General after consultation with the Chief Justice. Other state law officers, the Solicitor General, a Chief Magistrate and only 3 lawyers, their president, and 2 others elected by them, a token of independence. Yet this substantially unelected group of powerful officials controlled eligibility, Bar exams, and disciplinary powers.

The initial denial of Martha Karua a temporary license by the Ugandan Law Council and the reasons which it gave should tell you my dear reader everything else you need to know about the state of the independence of Uganda’s Legal Profession.

Read more about it here.

Reflections of the Uganda Law Council’s Refusal to License Martha Karua by Enen Ambrose at Enen Legal World.

“Independence and autonomy for the lawyers remained but only a cruel mirage.”

The Global Commandment: Let My Lawyers Go!

In 1990, the UN Congress in Havana thundered: the Basic Principles on the Role of Lawyers, echoing Exodus 5:1 “Let my lawyers go!” Principle 24 demanded self-governing, autonomous professional associations.

The International Bar Association’s Standards echoed this, decreeing in Article 17 that lawyer associations must be independent, their councils freely chosen without state interference. Article 18 makes this crystal clear:

“The functions of the appropriate lawyers’ association in ensuring the independence of the legal profession shall be inter alia: (h) to promote a high standard of legal education as a prerequisite for entry into the profession and the continuing education of lawyers, and to educate the public regarding the role of a Lawyers’ Association.”

Again, to the village Barraza, let me break this down into what my “A” Level economics teacher, Mr. Stanley Lukera, taught us, the “grandmother’s approach”: the Uganda Law Society, whose leaders are elected by the members, the lawyers themselves, must be the body responsible for setting academic standards for entry into the legal profession. That means setting and/or advocating for high-quality law school curricula, Bar exam requirements, or other qualifications before one can serve as an advocate.

Yet Uganda’s Pharaoh only sneered. The Law Council and ULS Act stood firm, chaining lawyers to state whims. The village Barraza waited for defenders, but lawyers, bound by Pharaoh’s overseers, could not rise.

The People’s Covenant Ignored

In 1995, Uganda’s people, the ultimate consumers of justice, struck a covenant in their Constitution. National Objectives and Directive Principles of State Policy, Paragraphs II(vi) and V(ii) XX declared that non-governmental bodies like the Uganda Law Society (ULS) must retain autonomy to champion human rights, their independence guaranteed by the state. Five years after the UN and IBA commandments, the people demanded their lawyers be freed to hold power accountable, to defend Mityana widows from land grabs, Soroti youths from unjust arrests, Mbale vendors from cheating landlords.

But Pharaoh’s heart hardened, as in Exodus 8:15. The state clutched the legal profession tighter, wielding the Law Development Centre (LDC) as its slave-pit. With nearly 20 universities churning out law graduates, LDC remained the sole gatekeeper of the Post-Graduate Diploma in Legal Practice, its infrastructure crumbling under the weight. Pre-entry exams, meant to manage capacity, became another lash, while quality control at universities was a paper tiger.

Plagues of the Slave-Pit

The LDC’s tyranny rained plagues on aspiring lawyers, not the state. Failure rates soared to 90% in 2021 and several other years. Dreams shattered like stolen straw. Sex-for-marks scandals led to the expulsion of Academic Registrar Everest Turyakihayo, in 2022; a stain on justice’s robe.

Supplementary exam fees bled students, parents, guardians, spouses, boyfriends, and sugar daddies dry in millions of shillings for a second chance at Pharaoh’s mercy. Then came the tenth plague, the killing blow: in 2024, LDC barred over 1,500 qualified applicants from the Bar Course, admitting only 1,260 of 2,600, citing “limited resources”. Like the death of Egypt’s firstborn in Exodus 11:1-10, this was no mere setback; it was a massacre of futures, a cry that pierced the heavens.

Yet some struck back. In 2017, Gulu and Cavendish graduates denied exams thumpchested and invited Pharaoh to the wrestling ring in Asiimwe Alex Byaruhanga & 12 Ors v Law Council & 3 Ors. Justice Wolayo thundered:

“Law Council’s block was arbitrary and irrational.”

The court quashed the ban, imposed permanent injunctions, and awarded 20 million UGX each. This blog is dedicated to among others, these courageous lawyers who walked through Pharaoh’s furnace and are now fine practicing Advocates.

Even public figures were not spared: Kyagulanyi Robert Ssentamu Alias Bobi Wine’s Cavendish University degree faced state scrutiny pre-graduation, proof Pharaoh’s heart hardens even against the popular. The musician turned leader of the National Unity Platform (NUP), Uganda’s largest opposition political party told members of the press shortly after his graduation that “When news came out that I was set to graduate, the usual detractors got busy and made every effort to stop me,” he said. “Some people, ostensibly working for the regime and other detractors, went as far as petitioning the National Council for Higher Education.” He added “NCHE officials went to the University and demanded for every document regarding my studies… It was a very detailed and intense investigation,

Pharaoh’s Whip extends beyond Law, it bites real flesh.

Pharaoh’s tyranny isn’t just legislative—it’s flesh and blood. At the 20th #RNBLive Series, Yours truly had the lived experience of delivering the speech of the ULS President Isaac K. Ssemakadde’s speech. A copy of that speech is attached and A video of it is also attached. The modern Aaron, spoke fire:

“Advocate Abed Nasser Mudyobole… forcibly disappeared by state security. His abduction echoes the tyranny that hunted Njuba, Kayondo, Sebutozi, Ayigihugu. Lawyers who defend the Constitution, who question power, are enemies to be silenced.”

Author delivering the speech of the ULS President Isaac K. Ssemakadde on 29th May 2025 at the ULS House, Kampala.

The courts shackle ULS blocking meetings (Kirima v ULS, 2024), Halting lawyers Constitutional voices at the Judicial Service Commission with appeals arising thereform under perpetual abeyance decisions (Mugisha v ULS), sentencing ULS President Isaac Ssemakadde in February, 2025 for criticizing a judge.

Bakampa: Vision for Job-Ready Lawyers

From LDC’s ashes rose Bakampa Brian Baryaguma. His Legal Education and Training Bill 2024:

Decentralizes Bar training to universities

Infuses practical skills: drafting, moots, clerkship

Mandates one-year pupillage and national Bar exam

Repeals the LDC Act

“No more paying twice for one loaf. Lawyers ready to defend the people.”

National Legal Examinations Centre Bill 2025: Red Sea or New Shackles?

ULS President Isaac K. Ssemakadde, mirroring Moses and Aaron, long campaigned against LDC. He demanded that it be abolished way back in 2021 in his address to Law Students at Makerere University. In what appeared to be a fit of rage, LDC reacted by blocking Ssemakadde on its X handle.

When news broke out that Cabinet had drafted the National Legal Examinations Centre Bill, 2025, the Radical New Bar President asked on whether LDC will unblock him?

Image: Isaac K. Ssemakadde asked if LDC would unblock him after the bill proposing its abolition as he had suggested was made public by the Solicitor General. Credit, Isaac Ssemakadde’s X (formerly Twitter handle)

The bill proposes to free the Post Graduate Bar Diploma in Legal Practice from LDC, and shut it down completely, but Pharaoh’s hand still grips:

Attorney General, a cabinet minister and political appointee, appoints Director of the center on the recommendation of the governing council & the chairperson of the governing Council itself (Clauses 17 and 8 respectively). This erodes the corporate governance principles in Clause 19 of the Bill.

The Attorney General can remove council members, set rules, and determine fees for services of the centre

The risk of elite and exclusionary political capture remains real. The ghosts of exorbitant fees, especially supplementary Examinations which sucked all stakeholders dry, should not be allowed to lurk after abolition of LDC.

“The legal profession stands at the Red Sea. Will it walk through freely or be recaptured?”

Call to Arms: Strike the Red Sea!

To defend justice, rights, and the Rule of Law, the following MUST BE DONE NOW to prevent lawyers from being captured and tamed “young” and moulded into frightened cowards who cannot foster accountability.

1. Let the ULS Command– ULS and not a state law officer should appoint the NLEC Director & Council.

2. Skills Fuse – Bakampa’s model in university curricula: drafting, moots, clerkship. The doctors and engineers have proven that you don’t need to pay twice for the same loaf.

3. Fees Free; The Council should retain a higher autonomy to set fees and, in collaboration with ULS, set academic and examination criteria and standards

A group of lawyers trained through fear, intimidation, and heavy involvement of state law officers loses the courage to fight for the Mityana widows, Soroti youths, and Mbale vendors: lawyers must rise bravely and fearlessly. The rule of law suffers gravely, and so does the effective functioning of the justice system as a whole.

Strike the Red Sea! Free ULS! #LetMyLawyersGo

“Pharaoh may harden his heart, but justice and truth can’t be enslaved forever.”

You, dear reader, should participate heavily in freeing your rights defenders, call up the big people you know, Your area member of parliament, your Dean, faculty of Law, your ULS region’s Council member and demand that “they strike the Red Sea” and implement these recommendations so that your rights defenders, the lawyers gain full autonomy and independence.

#Strike the Red Sea!

#Let My Lawyers Go!

This Blog is dedicated to the fearless champions of a better legal education and a better legal practice regulation in Uganda. Bakampa Brian Baryaguma, the author of the Legal Education and Training Bill who personally granted me the copyrights to quote his works extensively. His journey in the struggle has been chronicle by him on his personal Blog at https://huntedthinker.blogspot.com/https://huntedthinker.blogspot.com/?m=1. I strongly encourage readers to visit his Blog and support his rallying call for members of the Public to contribute views on his bill which is attached:

Legal Education and Training Bill, 2024 – Draft 3 Download

as well as the version presented by the cabinet, which is attached below:

THE NATIONAL LEGAL EXAMINATIONS BILL, 2025 (1)Download

President of Uganda Law Society, Isaac K. Ssemakadde for prophesying the eventual shut down of LDC, being blocked by the same institution on X (formerly twitter), expelling the Attorney General and Solicitor General from the governing council of the ULS via RNB Executive Order No. 1 of 2024 and earlier on filing a Constitutional Petition, which canvases the international law framework that has been presented and is still pending judgment by the Constitutional Court. My personal prayers are with you as you endure the pain of self exile for tackling the challenges of the legal profession from the root cause. May the good Lord protect you and touch the justices of the Constitutional Court for a just decision.

This blog is further dedicated to the lawyers who engaged the legal system in the journey to reform the legal system, namely Pius Nuwagaba, Asiimwe Alex Byaruhanga, and his 12 colleagues for challenging the Law Council head on. Your struggles curated this milestone and led the legal profession, especially intending Advocates to now arrive at the Red Sea, waiting to strike the waters to open up the sea, to cross and permanently ensure the independence and full autonomy of the Legal Profession.

Finally, each and every lawyer, member of the public who added embers to the revolutionary fire to free the legal profession, parents, Judges who rendered justice, you all stood on the right side of history, may God bless you.

Enen Ambrose, the author, is an Advocate and member of the inaugural Judicial Affairs Committee of the Uganda Law Society.

DISCLAIMERS!

This blog is intended to spark discussions around the current National Legal Education Centre Bill 2025. References to individuals and institutions are based on publicly reported developments and not meant to attack individuals or institutions mentioned directly.

Nothing in this Blog is intended for use as legal advice. Author accepts no liability for use of the contents herein as legal advice. Readers are advised to seek the services of a licensed Advocate for situation specific legal advice.

For comments and feedback, reach to us at ambrosenen@gmail.com

August 13, 2025
Uganda Needs Judges with Balls of Titanium Alloy—Not the Shackles of the JSC Regulations, 2025: Why You Should Be Worried

Let’s not waste time.
Uganda’s judiciary has been hijacked. Quietly. Legally. Treacherously.

They didn’t need a coup d’état. They just needed Statutory Instrument No. 4 of 2025—the Judicial Service Commission Regulations—to pass unchallenged.

You can access a copy of those regulations here:

JUDICIAL SERVICE COMISSION-04152025211719_250416_194252-compressed Download

And now the Constitution isn’t bleeding.

It’s on life support. Plugged into a system designed to kill it slowly.

Judges on Acting Terms. Courts on Probation. Justice on the Brink.

Here’s what they’ve done:

Invented a system where new judges are appointed on in an acting capacity, with the duration determined at the whims of the appointing authority—yes, like interns at a mobile money kiosk.

Given the President the power to recycle retired judges, no questions asked. No medical. No mental. No morals.

Created performance evaluations for judges like they’re applying for a promotion at a law firm.

That’s right, you’re not day dreaming, the system was rigged. In 2022, the Constitutional Court damned this shrewd “sharp practice” and threw it in our Constitutional History by declaring it unconstitutional in Dr. Busingye Kabumba and Karamagi vs Attorney General.

A copy of that decision can be found here:

Kabumba and Another v Attorney General (Constitutional Petition No 15 of 2022) 2022 UGCC 8 (7 December 2022)Download

Good judgment, right? Damn, the government rigged it. It instead created a legal loophole which enabled it to pass these damned Regulations.

Firstly, it appealed against. Secondly the government obtained what is in effect a suspension of the independence of the Judiciary as the Supreme Court delays to decide the Government’s Appeal .

A copy of the decision which suspended the independence of High Court Judges as the government waits for a decision in its own appeal from the above case can be accessed from here:

Attorney General v Kabumba Another (Constitutional Application 16 of 2022) 2023 UGCC 117 (6 June 2023)Download

Okay, let’s dive into the evil in the Regulations.
Reg. 29–33 and 31 are the smoking guns.
And what they shoot is judicial independence—straight between the eyes.

And Then There’s 2026…

Uganda’s next elections are not just around the corner—they’re rumbling like thunder.

And we know the script:

Mass arrests.

Disappearances.

Violent suppression.

Habeas corpus applications flying like confetti.

Human rights cases lined up like a firing squad.

It will take judges to hear them all.

But what kind of judges?

Not fearless ones. Not permanent ones. Not independent ones.

The Regulations guarantee this:

When the state comes for you, the judge before you may still be “acting,” “probationary,” or “awaiting confirmation.”

You don’t need a judge praying for job security.

You need a judge with balls forged from titanium alloy, ready to grab the State by its ball sac and say:

“Back off. The Constitution says this citizen walks free.”

These Regulations can’t produce that judge.
They produce whispering cowards in robes.

But Wait, There’s a Recruitment Cartel Too

They didn’t just kill judicial independence at the appointment level.

They also built a Search and Recruitment Committee—and a Sub-Committee—with a quorum of TWO people.

Let that sink in:
Two people can now shortlist Uganda’s judges.

Who are these people?

The Attorney General—yes, the government’s own lawyer.

The Chairperson of the JSC—currently Justice Singiza, who was once branded a “Nazi Judge” by opposition supporters for adjourning Besigye’s habeas corpus case instead of hearing it urgently.

And guess who they kicked out of this process?

The two (2) representatives of the Uganda Law Society.

The very people the Constitution says should be part of the Judicial Service Commission.

It Was Planned. Timed. Executed.

These Regulations were passed while the Uganda Law Society is in court, fighting to elect its representatives.

The plan is clear:
Keep them out. Lock the process down. Staff the courts with friendly judges. Control the law from the inside out.

This isn’t just bad law.

It’s a judicial cartel in robes.

And You Think It Doesn’t Affect You?

Wait until your land is taken.
Wait until your protest turns into a prison sentence.
Wait until your loved one disappears.
Wait until the courtroom is the only place left to cry out.

Then you’ll pray that your judge isn’t still auditioning for a contract renewal.

Here’s the Message:

Uganda’s justice system is being rebuilt—not to protect you, but to survive you.

It is no longer about law.
It’s about control.
It’s about loyalty.
It’s about silencing justice before you can even plead for it.

This is the war. This is the moment. This is the alarm.

If you have eyes you better see, and if you have ears you better listen.

More about me and disclaimer in the about page.

May 2, 2025
Foot Soldier’s Last Stand: Inside the Madness of Sycophants, Rogue WhatsApp Admins, and the Northern Bar Bench Forum

Photocredit: Team of Advocate Paul Mukiibi with their Brand: Chain breakers in the campaign to represent the Uganda Law Society at the Judicial Service Commission.

It started like a flicker—a tiny spark of defiance that should’ve ignited a roaring wildfire of rage and justice. Instead, it was smothered by the gargantuan, self-righteous boots of censorship, as if the admins of the Northern Bar-Bench Forum were playing the role of divine gatekeepers to the underworld of logic, reason, and free speech. It was the perfect storm waiting to brew, and here we were, caught in the vortex of unrelenting madness.

Imagine this: a friend—let’s call them Advocate C—dared to share a link to an article so scorching that the digital air itself trembled. The scandal? The Honorable Chief Justice, in a move so brazen it could only be conceived in the dankest corners of the power-obsessed universe, allegedly schemed to extend the retirement age for Supreme Court Justices. Why? To keep his gnarled hands on the throne, forever and ever. He also decided to appoint an Acting Principal Judge without so much as a whiff of the President’s blessing, like a schoolyard bully claiming the lunchroom as his own personal fiefdom. The legal streets of the Forum exploded in righteous fury, an inferno of truth and justice clamoring for attention.

And then… the admins. Oh, the admins. The self-crowned, self-important emperors of silence—oh yes, those power-hungry weasels. They descended like locusts, their ban-hammers blazing. Link? Gone. Criticism? Erased. “Don’t post things that make other members uncomfortable,” they decreed, as if comfort was the holy grail of democracy. What’s uncomfortable, you ask? The CJ’s alleged power grab that should’ve made every Ugandan’s blood boil? That’s what should’ve made us all “uncomfortable.” But no, not in their world. The admins had a higher calling: the suppression of truth, under the guise of “unity” and “comfort.” What a joke.

That night, at 8:43 PM, the world shook. I—Ambrose Enen—I was done. I had had enough of their charade. With the force of a thousand furious lions, I stormed into the admins’ fortress of lies. I sent them a question that cracked their gilded masks and made their self-satisfied jaws clench like desperate prey:

“Why are you strangling debates about the Hon. Chief Justice, you cowardly sycophants?”

I threw down the gauntlet, demanding they justify their pathetic, trembling submission to the powers that be, to shield His Lordship from the fire of scrutiny. The CJ had once bellowed like a lion, declaring, “If you’re not criticized, it means you’re doing nothing and the people just choose to ignore you!” And here they were, trying to shield him from even the faintest whiff of criticism. Hypocrisy? Monumental. So, I unsheathed Article 29 of the Constitution like a blazing sword and sliced through their pitiful, sanctimonious excuses with the fury of an avenging god. I invoked the speech of the Chief Justice himself when he delivered his own lead Judgment in Kabaziguruka case, where the Supreme Court put a grinding halt on the trial of civilians in the Court martial. The Chief Justice was referring to President Isaac Ssemakade’s work method, weekly public press engagements dubbed the “RNB Live” in which fireballs were hurled at the Justices of the Supreme Court for delaying to deliver that very judgment. The very Supreme Court had in an earlier judgment in the case of Charles Onyango Obbo and Andrew Mujuni Mwenda had crowned free speech as an untouchable deity, immune to the fragile egos of all public officials from the President to the Military.

Read a copy of that Judgment here:

Charles Onyango Obbo and Anor v Attorney General 2004 UGSC 1 (10 February 2004)-1 Download

Related: read also: https://enenlegalworld.wordpress.com/2024/11/20/revisiting-free-speech-professional-ethics-and-gender-sensitivity-in-uganda-a-legal-and-social-analysis/

I screamed at them, demanding they answer me: Had they erased the CJ’s own edict—that criticism is the lifeblood of action? Or had they buried the people’s right to challenge power under a mountain of self-inflicted fear?

I didn’t stop there. I summoned the name of the great Isaac Ssemakadde, a volcano of legal brilliance who melts the hearts of tyrants and leaves them quaking in their boots. His name sent ripples of panic through their ranks, like a shark’s fin slicing through calm waters. And I laughed—loudly—at their terrified whimpering.

The admins’ response? Hilarious. They pulled out the same tired, sanctimonious rhetoric, claiming the Forum, created in 2019 by the then “mighty” Conrad Oroya, was meant to unite “advocates” and “judicial officers” from the greater North. They paraded their so-called patrons, from the CJ down to the lowliest Magistrates, and tried to paint themselves as paragons of unity and reason. But wait—oh wait—they accused the Radical New Bar (RNB) of destroying the Forum, branding us as “scourges of the legal profession.” Apparently, our “scathing attacks” were too much for their fragile egos, too sharp for their delicate sensibilities. They shrieked that we’d turned their sacred Forum into a warzone. And that—that was their best excuse for censorship.

But, my friends, that wasn’t enough. They threatened to boot us out, to banish us from their “pious” space where only their carefully curated lies were welcome. Oh, how I laughed. I thought of Maxime Rovere’s words in his book, How to Deal with Idiots and not be one yourself: “Idiots infest every cesspool, even the loftiest halls of government.” But this wasn’t a government cesspool, oh no. This was a digital one, run by clowns in armor of “civility” and “comfort.” I held back my laughter only because it was a laugh of pure, unadulterated rage.

The admins couldn’t take the heat, and then, boom. A revolution. It didn’t come in the form of an army, no. It came in the form of words. Words sharper than a thousand blades.

A Grade 1 Magistrate—yes, a Grade 1 Magistrate—came for them, tearing through their lies like a wildfire through dry grass. “Article 29 doesn’t grovel before judicial comfort,” they roared. “You’re strangling debate about the CJ, and in doing so, you’re ripping the soul from the legal profession itself.”

Then, like a chorus of angels singing the hymn of truth, came another Magistrate. It came with fire in their belly and venom in their words. “Your fear of the Radical New Bar only exposes your cowardice,” they snarled. “You’re terrified of a few questions—questions!—about the CJ’s power plays. What kind of admins are you?”

Then came Advocate A—oh yes, Advocate A—with a fire so hot it could melt the very walls of their sanctimonious den. They came at the admins like a raging storm, laughing at their pathetic attempts to shield the CJ from the rightful fire of criticism. They mocked them for their “bootlicking” and told the admins to lick the dust. They didn’t just fight—they laughed in their faces. And their message? “You’ve earned this defeat, you glorious cowards.”

But that’s when the real rebellion began. Just after my banishment, Advocate B—yes, Advocate B—launched a tidal wave of resistance. “See you in Gulu Learned Friends,” they sneered. “But first, post that message which was deleted here!”

The forum’s demise wasn’t my banishment. Oh no. It died when it sold its soul, when it chose silence over truth, when it cowered before power. And here’s the thing—the admins? They didn’t even see it coming.

But then came the words of Isaac Ssemakadde—oh, those words, those molten words that seared their way into my soul. “Impunity’s greatest weakness is the craving it has for respectability, legitimacy, and sycophancy. Deny it one of those lubricants, and you will begin to see ‘how the mighty fall.’ So fast.” And then he said the words that would light the fuse of my rebellion for good: “Principle is always vulnerable in the face of power; especially in spaces of long-term subjugation where the legal culture is manipulative & unapologetic in defence of power. Only a revolution, grounded in principle, can reverse things now.”

I heard it. The call. The revolution, forged in fire and principle, was now in my blood. And so, like a storm that cannot be stalled, I went to battle. Unbanned. Unbowed. Unafraid.

Because here’s the truth: The Northern Bar-Bench Forum was supposed to be a crucible of ideas, a place where Uganda’s brightest minds clashed, burned away the dross, and emerged better. Instead, it became a cesspool, a sanctuary for the most dangerous thing of all: fear. Fear of truth. Fear of scrutiny. Fear of Article 29.

And in that fear, they forgot. They forgot what a forum was meant to be. They forgot that power, unchecked and unchallenged, is the very thing that devours empires.

So here’s to the outcasts, the truth-tellers, the Ssemakaddes who set the world ablaze with righteous fury! Here’s to Advocate A, Advocate B, and every single renegade who refused to bow before the gods of comfort. Here’s to Article 29 and the indomitable, damn-near-holy faith that free speech isn’t a gift from admins or judges—it’s our birthright, you small little intern Honorable WhatsApp administrator dictators!

April 29, 2025
OF CHAINS AND ROBES: When the Judiciary Surrendered Its Soul at the Altar of Power

They told us Lady Justice was blind. Yet no soul foretold us that she could be gagged, chained by red tape, or forced to perform a scripted dirge for the state—while the true conduct of justice withers in her silent grasp.

This is the tragedy of our times:
On one fateful day, under the looming shadow of executive power, the Judiciary refused bail to Dr. Kizza Besigye—not because the law demanded it but because the long finger of the Executive had darkened the halls of justice. The gavel itself seemed to quiver in fear.

In a nation where the very concept of “public interest” is weaponized, such a ruling is not just injustice—it’s a full-throated political press release performed by a bench too timid to uphold the Constitution. Uganda does not merely serve up injustice; we marinate it in irony, wrap it in drama, and serve it with a side of bitter satire.

Then enters the spectacle of The Ssegirinya Case.
Hon. Muhammad Ssegirinya—a brave legislator whose voice once roared in opposition—died at a hospital right here in Uganda and was laid to rest in Masaka amid national mourning. Parliament wept. The Electoral Commission hustled. A by-election crowned Counsel Nalukoola as the Honorable Member of Parliament for Kawempe North Constituency. The new MP elect was gazetted and subsequently took the oath of a member of Parliament and yet, the Judiciary clung to absurdity:
“We need a death certificate to terminate the criminal case against him.”

Imagine: while Parliament already acknowledged his passing, the Chief Magistrate’s Court demand forensic proof—as if they were guarding against a zombie revival in the halls of justice. Some things, Your Worships, don’t need official state records like a death certificate; they require judicial notice. Ssegirinya is gone. No amount of legal formality can reverse that truth. To be slightly more cheeky and dramatic about it, will the Court issue criminal summons or an arrest warrant to produce the fallen legislator before Court? Yes, that is the absurdity we are talking about.

Meanwhile, within the oppressive corridors of power, a lone rebel rises. President Isaac Ssemakadde—a man both radical and resolute—was denied a podium at New Year Law Day, yet he found a way to become the voice for those silenced. Standing on a cold step outside the hallowed courtroom, he declared:

“The Uganda Law Society doesn’t exist to soothe the egos of the Judiciary but to protect it from Executive Overreach.”

That proclamation was not mere rhetoric—it was a rallying cry. No applause met his words, yet the Constitution itself, dusty and long-forgotten on a shelf, clapped with the thunder of truth.

Adding a surreal twist to this saga, the ruling that doomed Besigye’s bail came on the heels of the anniversary of President Idi Amin’s regime collapse—the day Uganda first broke free from dictatorship. And as if the fates conspired further, on that very day, Justice Gadenya granted a stay of execution for the arrest warrant against President Ssemakadde. A copy of the Ruling by His Lordship Paul W Gadenya can be found here

Ssemakadde v Uganda (Private Prosecution by Byamazima Joshua and Tonny Tumukunde) 2025 UGHCCRD 17 (11 April 2025)Download

Read also about the international arrest warrant against President Isaac K. Ssemakade and why it was an embarrassment to the whole of Uganda’s Legal system here: https://enenlegalworld.wordpress.com/2025/03/20/red-alert-ssemakadde-and-ugandas-judiciary-in-the-international-firestorm/

History, it seems, is writing its own epic:
The ancient echoes of liberation mingle with our modern struggles, and even the ancestors of this Republic refuse to sleep.

In the midst of this theatrical legal circus, one voice from the depths of exasperation cut through the clamor:

“The law ceased being an ass. It’s now a pussy.”

Unfiltered, incendiary, and laughably raw—this isn’t a mere quip but a savage indictment. When courts purr in the laps of power rather than bite down on injustice, we can’t pretend neutrality. We must call the rule of law what it is: law taking orders instead of serving justice.

As we stand at the crossroads of history, our hearts burn with the hope for a future where truth rings louder than decree. Like the fabled moment when Pontius Pilate (in his own conflicted way) declared, “I find no guilt in this man,” yet allowed the crowd to dictate a cruel verdict, the Ruling of the Hon. Lady Justice Comfort denying Besigye’s bail Application even after finding that he had satisfied all the requirements reveals to all those who care to see that executive Overreach influenced the outcome of the decision. A copy of the ruling can be accessed here:

Dr. KB and Obeid Ruling On Bail Download

So here we are—writing not for mere record but for revolution. This is no ordinary blog post. It’s a legal thriller, a national mirror, a soaring cry that condemns mediocrity and demands accountability.

Justice, if you’re still alive—send us a signal.
We’re here.

And for the record—this blog is not an attack on the personal integrity or competence of the judicial officers concerned. It is a constitutional critique—bold, unfiltered, and fully protected as free expression under Article 29 of Uganda’s Constitution. We aim not to tear down but to build a Judiciary worthy of public confidence, not executive approval.

April 14, 2025
Red Alert: Ssemakadde and Uganda’s Judiciary in the International Firestorm

Image: President Isaac Kimaze Ssemakade. Image Credit: Isaac Ssemakade’s X(formerly Twitter post)

Uganda’s judiciary just went full-on nuclear—and there’s no holding back. On New Law Year day, the very system that’s supposed to be the bastion of justice turned into a circus. The ULS President got stonewalled, the Chief Justice practically demanded an apology, and then came the blow—Justice Ssekana slammed down a two-year sentence on Ssemakadde for contempt of court. It wasn’t just a ruling; it was a middle finger to anyone who dared question the establishment.

And if that wasn’t enough, the entire scandal is being dragged into the international arena. The Judiciary, in a move that can only be described as a self-inflicted public relations massacre, has tried to weaponize an Interpol Red Notice for an offense as laughably flimsy and culturally controversial as “insulting the modesty of a woman.” Yes, you read that right. While Interpol is busy chasing down genuine threats, war Lords, Drug cartels, Uganda’s courts are out here acting like they’re in a personal vendetta—pursuing a man for throwing sharp words at the system.

The madness deepens: the whole legal shambles that produced the warrant is under revision in the High Court, completely unattended, like a sinking ship left to rot. And guess what? Ssemakadde isn’t going down without a fight. He’s vowed, through his legal team, to challenge any Red Notice that dares to be issued against him—an audacious promise that practically screams “bring it on!”

Meanwhile, the Executive and Parliament, both seasoned in navigating international diplomacy, stand in stark contrast to the Judiciary’s response. Having faced sanctions, blacklisting, and travel bans in the past, they are well-versed in managing the complex web of international scrutiny, asset freezes, and the like. Who doesn’t recall the free Bobi Wine protests that rocked global capitals. Who doesn’t recall a foreign affairs minister who was on global travel sanctions. Have we very quickly forgotten the backlash from Western states when the Uganda’s Anti-Homosexuality Act was passed into Law and upheld by the Constitutional Court. Experts and negotiators from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs burnt the midnight oil and the Ugandan state is still here to stay. The Judiciary, however, is primarily trained in upholding decorum, judicial conduct, and domestic legal frameworks. It is ill-equipped to handle the nuances of foreign policy, international relations, and diplomacy. So, the real question is: if the international community begins to ask hard-hitting questions about accountability and the rule of law—questions that go beyond the courtroom—will the Attorney General and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs step in to shield the Judiciary from the fallout? Or will they be left to fend for themselves, with their lack of expertise in international relations becoming glaringly apparent?

Yes, development partners like the European Union, funders of the SUPREME project, Pepperdine University behind the plea bargain project, IDLO, Amnesty International, the Democratic Governance Facility (who knows they may come back) will have key questions about transparency, accountability and Rule of Law, directly addressed to our third estate about where their Millions of Aid is going. They will not be amused if they think their resources are being deployed to fight what appears to be petty fights.

And what more, individual partner states with a long tradition of democracy may refuse to hand over President Ssemakade on grounds that the Red Notice is politically motivated and targeting free speech and dissent. Dramatically enough, interpol itself may refuse to put out the Red Notice, why? It goes against the Interpol Constitution. The offense leading up to the warrant isn’t listed as one of those for which a Red Notice can be put out and enforced.

This isn’t your everyday legal drama; it’s a blood-soaked, high-stakes showdown where the very soul of Uganda’s justice system is on trial. Ssemakadde, with the cunning of a renegade professor from Money Heist, baited the Judiciary into a carefully crafted trap. Just like the Professor orchestrated the heists with meticulous precision, Ssemakadde pulled off a legal masterstroke, using the Judiciary’s own flaws against it. His provocation wasn’t a reckless act of defiance; it was a radical surgery planned to expose the raw, festering wounds of Uganda’s ailing legal system. The Judiciary walked straight into his trap, and now the courts stand naked and vulnerable on the global stage.

So here we are, witnessing a system that once prided itself on upholding justice now doing a complete 180 into chaos. The Judiciary has thrown down the gauntlet, and if the international community decides to respond, it won’t be a pretty sight. The madness is palpable, the stakes are astronomical, and the fallout could reshape Uganda’s legal landscape forever.

At this point, there’s only one entity that can pull Uganda’s judiciary back from the brink of absolute disaster: the relevant High Court Judge. The request for a Red Notice is a ticking time bomb, and if it’s not halted right here, within the Judiciary itself, the fallout will be catastrophic. The international community is already watching, and Uganda’s fragile legal system is on the verge of being exposed in the harshest possible light. This isn’t just about one man; this is about the future of Uganda’s justice system and its credibility on the world stage.

But amid the chaos, there’s still hope. There are still clean judges, magistrates, and lawyers who believe in the integrity of the law and the values of justice. This system is not beyond redemption, but it’s going to take those who truly care about upholding the rule of law to stand up, speak out, and fight for a better, fairer future. This moment—this unprecedented crisis—can be the turning point for Uganda’s legal system if the right people step forward.

The Judiciary stands at a crossroads. If swift, decisive action isn’t taken now, Uganda’s courts will find themselves at the heart of a global scandal—a bloodbath of embarrassment from which there may be no recovery. This is the moment of truth. The question is: will the Judiciary rise to the occasion, or will it collapse under the weight of its own mistakes?

The clock is ticking, and the time for action is now. The relevant High Court Judge holds the key—let them make the right call before it’s too late.

DISCLAIMER: This Blog is not made to attack the institution of the Judiciary but to spark conversations and discourse on vital reforms.

More about the author on the about page for feedback and comments.

March 20, 2025
Mugambe’s Fall: A Clash of Legal Systems and the Struggle Between Impunity and Accountability

Uganda’s legal system has long been a fortress of impunity. For decades, it has survived every attempt at reform—not by improving, but by dismantling anyone who dares to fix it.

Enter Isaac Ssemakadde, Uganda Law Society (ULS) President.

His mission? To drag the legal profession out of the mud, rebuild public trust, and hold the entire system accountable.

His first strike? Kicking the Attorney General off the ULS Governing Council. Why? Because how does a government’s top lawyer sit in the governing body of an institution meant to be an independent watchdog? It was a classic case of conflict of interest, and Ssemakadde terminated it.

Image: Isaac K Ssemakade. Photo Credit: Insight Post Uganda

His second move? Recalling all unelected ULS representatives to the Judicial Service Commission (JSC)—a body meant to discipline errant judges. For too long, these positions had been filled by handpicked placeholders who were cozy with the very Judiciary they were supposed to regulate.

Then, the nuclear option—a ULS-led Public Commission of Inquiry into the entire Bench.

That was the moment the Judiciary declared war.

A full-scale investigation into judicial corruption, impunity, and accountability? The Judiciary saw what was coming—a public trial of the very system that has shielded the powerful for decades.

And so, they struck first.

A High Court Judge—who, it has been reported, was allegedly involved in sexual harassment allegations—injuncted the entire process and had Ssemakadde convicted of contempt of court with a two-year jail sentence.

Yes, you read that right.

A judge in a case where he was allegedly the victim, presiding over a trial that could expose him, convicted the man leading the movement for reform.

The Judiciary had gone into full-blown self-preservation mode.

And while Uganda’s legal system was busy eating its own, something very different was unfolding in the UK.

A Ugandan judge—Justice Lydia Mugambe—was convicted.

And suddenly, Uganda got a front-row seat to what real judicial accountability looks like.

No judicial gymnastics. No vanishing case files. No presidential interference.

Just a judge facing the law like any other citizen.

And here’s the real kicker—the UK wasn’t just convicting a judge.

They were sending a message.

Uganda’s human rights record had rotted beyond acceptable limits.

Opposition National Unity Platform (NUP) supporters were reportedly tortured, arbitrarily detained, and held without trial. The UK had already slapped sanctions on key Ugandan officials. And now, Uganda’s backdoor diplomatic channels in London were reportedly frozen.

Word on the street? NUP had played quiet but strategic backdoor diplomacy, exposing Uganda’s entrenched impunity to the UK foreign office—and the UK listened.

This wasn’t just about Mugambe.

It was Uganda being held accountable—one way or another.

Because in Uganda, justice serves the powerful. In the UK, it serves the law.

And so, as Judge Mugambe awaits sentencing on May 2nd, 2025, we extend our best wishes.

Not because of what she did or didn’t do, but because this entire mess is a reflection of a broken system back home.

The Hon. Lady Justice Lydia Mugambe. Photo Credit: Daily monitor

To all who still believe in the Rule of Law—even as the system crushes them—we see you.

To the ULS candidates still battling for election to represent ULS to the JSC—who have outspent resources in what was supposed to be a simple election, but turned into a never-ending war—hold strong.

The Judiciary stalled the election, an appeal halted the process, and yet—hope refuses to die.

Because one day, impunity will fall.

And when it does, it won’t be because of backroom deals.

It will be because of the fearless ones—those who refused to let injustice win.

And when that day comes, we won’t just be telling the story. We will be living it.

Disclaimer:
The views expressed in this blog are based on publicly available reports and sources. Allegations mentioned are unverified and are referred to as they have been reported. This post is an opinion piece aimed at encouraging dialogue and reflection on the issues discussed. The cases mentioned are subject to ongoing legal processes and investigations, and the information presented is intended for general awareness rather than legal conclusions.

More about the author on the about Page.

Do you have stories in your community that we should Blog about, or do you have comments to help us improve on our delivery?, please feel free to reach out to us through our address which is on the about Page

March 18, 2025
NO APOLOGIES, NO SURRENDER: THE RADICAL NEW BAR TAKES THE JUDICIARY TO WAR

The Judiciary wanted a fight. Now, it has a war.

The New Law Year was supposed to be ceremonial—a chance for the Bench and the Bar to sip tea and pretend they liked each other. Instead, it became a crime scene.

Chief Justice Alfonse Owiny-Dollo, tired of the Uganda Law Society’s relentless attacks, came out swinging. He stood before the nation, fists metaphorically clenched, voice dripping with fury.

At first, he played innocent. Pretended he wasn’t the one who had gagged Isaac Ssemakadde. Then, unable to hold back, he let the truth slip.

“I am the one who ordered that the President of the Uganda Law Society should not speak.”

And then, like a man who had been waiting to explode, he thundered:

“Only a fool, and I really mean it, it is only a fool who abuses you, insults you, dehumanizes you and thinks it will be business as usual. It cannot be business as usual unless you make amends.”

Boom. There it was.

The Judiciary was officially in its feelings.

The message was clear: Bend the knee, apologize, or face consequences.

But here’s the thing—Ssemakadde doesn’t kneel. The Radical New Bar doesn’t beg. And the Uganda Law Society doesn’t send apology cards.

Ssemakadde’s response was swift, brutal, and final:

“The Uganda Law Society doesn’t exist to soothe the Judiciary or assuage its egos. The Uganda Law Society’s role is to protect the Judiciary from Executive Overreach and to ensure public trust in the Judiciary.”

Translation? Cry if you want. The Bar owes you nothing.

THE BUILD-UP TO WAR: THE JUDICIARY’S NEVER-ENDING BLEEDING

This wasn’t just an outburst. This was months of pent-up fury.

The Judiciary had been bleeding out ever since the Radical New Bar declared war on its comfort zone.

Executive Order No. 1 threw the Attorney General and Solicitor General out of the ULS Council.

Executive Order No. 2 announced a Radical Surgery on the Judiciary—no anesthesia, just raw scalpel to the bone.

Executive Order No. 3 didn’t just boycott Justice Musa Ssekana—it excommunicated him from the legal faith.

Justice Ssekana, famous for delivering controversial and contradictory rulings had crossed a dangerous line.

He had blocked ULS elections for its representative to the Judicial Service Commission. Many saw it as blatant Judicial Overreach—the Bench trying to control the Bar.

The Radical New Bar did not take it lightly.

A total boycott of Justice Ssekana’s courtroom. His rulings became legal noise—heard but never taken seriously.

The ULS plaque that once honored him? REVOKED. PUBLICLY DISOWNED. SYMBOLICALLY BURNT.

A whistleblower campaign launched, calling for evidence to have him removed for Judicial Misconduct.

Ssekana was supposed to be finished.

But Uganda’s Judiciary is like a bad magic trick—the more incompetent you are, the higher you rise.

Instead of accountability, Ssekana is now pending vetting for the Court of Appeal.

A man under public investigation for judicial misconduct is being lined up for a promotion.

At this point, the Judiciary wasn’t just bleeding—it was leaking credibility like a sinking ship.

THE KABAZIGURUKA JUDGMENT—WHEN REAL POWER SPOKE, THE JUDICIARY COWERED

But let’s talk about the elephant in the room.

The Uganda Law Society forced the Supreme Court to deliver the Kabaziguruka Judgment on January 31, 2025. It was a victory for the Rule of Law—civilians could no longer be tried in military courts.

The Radical New Bar celebrated.

And then, Gen. Muhoozi Kainerugaba entered the chat.

Uganda’s Chief of Defense Forces. The President’s son. The man who commands tanks, fighter jets, and battle-hardened soldiers.

He wasn’t impressed.

He didn’t file for a review. He didn’t even bother to hide his disgust.

He called the entire Supreme Court “clowns.”

Then, he went further.

“We are coming for you.”

A direct threat. An undeniable challenge.

If any civilian had said this, contempt of court summons would have been printed, signed, and delivered in minutes.

But this was Uganda’s most powerful General.

What did the Judiciary do?

NOTHING.

No warning. No condemnation. No outrage. Just silence.

But when Ssemakadde calls out judicial incompetence? Suddenly, the Judiciary is offended.
When Sebaduka criticizes the Bench? Suddenly, they have the power to throw someone in jail.

Muhoozi tells the Supreme Court “we are coming for you,” and they act like they didn’t hear a thing.

But when the Radical New Bar speaks, the Judiciary suddenly remembers how to fight.

THE FINAL SHOWDOWN: THE PUBLIC INQUIRY IS COMING

The Judiciary thought the worst was over? Not even close.

Because Isaac Ssemakadde doesn’t just fight battles—he wages wars.

Last year, he made a promise:

The Uganda Law Society would not wait for the broken, spineless, toothless Judicial Service Commission to act.

No more fake investigations. No more endless excuses. No more allowing compromised institutions to pretend they can police themselves.

The ULS would marshal a PUBLIC COMMISSION OF INQUIRY into the entire Bench.

And he gave the Judicial Service Commission a deadline—January 15, 2025—to furnish a report on its inquiry against Justice Ssekana.

The deadline came and went.

No report. No accountability. Just the same old game of protecting the powerful.

Now, the ULS Governing Council has just completed its retreat. What were they doing? COMBING THROUGH PUBLICLY GATHERED EVIDENCE AGAINST JUSTICE SSEKANA.

Evidence gathered as a result of Executive Order No. 3.

The Judiciary wanted a fight? Now, it has a full-scale public investigation coming straight for its doorstep.

And the Chief Justice still expects an apology?

The ULS will not apologize to a judge they have been investigating for potential removal.

The Judiciary wanted a war. Now, it’s getting one.

The horns are locked. The trenches are dug. The battle lines are drawn.

And if the Judiciary thought the Radical New Bar was dangerous before?

They haven’t seen anything yet.

This is no longer just a legal fight. This is institutional. This is existential. This is irreversible.

Brace yourselves. 2025 is about to be the most explosive year in Ugandan legal history.

NO APOLOGIES. NO COMPROMISES. NO MERCY.

JUSTICE WILL PREVAIL.

DISCLAIMER: This Blog is not intended to ridicule or attack the persons of the Honorable Chief Justice Alfonse Chigamoi Owiny Dollo, the Hon. Justice Musa Ssekana. It is purely public commentary on the spat that happened at the opening of the New Law Year at the Supreme Court, Kampala.

The information contained in this Blog is not intended to be used as Legal advice. The author accepts no liability for injury arising from using the information contained in the Blog as Legal Advice. Readers are advised to seek the services of a qualified attorney in their area of Jurisdiction to deal with specific scenarios.

Do you have a story that would contribute to the Rule of Law discussion that you want us to write about? Reach out to us at ambrosenen@gmail.com

February 9, 2025
BANG! MILITARY COURTS FOR CIVILIANS ARE DEAD—THE SUPREME COURT JUST DROPPED THE HAMMER, AND THE RADICAL NEW BAR LIT THE FUNERAL PYRE!

The Supreme Court has spoken. The revolution has won. The military courts are finished. It took 25 years of legal battles, endless delays, and the relentless fire of Uganda’s most radical legal minds, but justice has finally arrived. And when it came, it wasn’t subtle. It came with the full force of the Constitution, a gavel so loud it could shake the foundations of every military courtroom still pretending to be a temple of justice.

This is not just a legal victory; it is a demolition job on a long-standing abuse of power. It is the final nail in the coffin for a system that has for decades terrorized civilians, dragging them before military tribunals as if they were rogue soldiers, silencing dissent under the guise of national security. And the Supreme Court? Oh, the Supreme Court delivered its judgment with flair, with humor, and with the kind of clarity that leaves no room for debate.

Chief Justice Owiny-Dollo, ever the master of courtroom theatre, laid it all bare in ways that had the entire legal fraternity both laughing and nodding in agreement. Imagine a Uganda where he, a civilian, is picked to lead a military brigade to guard the war-torn eastern border with the DRC. Imagine him, clad in combat gear, barking orders to soldiers while probably asking them which way to point a gun. Or worse—picture him in a hospital theatre, standing over an unconscious patient, scalpel in hand, completely clueless about whether he’s holding a kidney or a liver. Madness, right? Exactly. That, he said, is the absurdity of putting untrained military officers in charge of dispensing justice.

This was the point where even the most rigid courtroom observer had to chuckle. But beneath the humor was a devastating truth: military courts are tribunals run by people without the first clue about judicial procedure, yet they have spent years presiding over cases, handing down life sentences and convictions like they were distributing rations at a military mess. The Chief Justice didn’t mince his words. The Constitution was clear, and so was the Court—military justice is for military personnel, period. Civilians have no business being tried there.

And yet, as the judgment was delivered, there was another remarkable moment. Counsel Caleb Alaka, one of Uganda’s legal firebrands, stood up and did something few saw coming—he apologized. On behalf of the Uganda Law Society, he expressed regret for the extreme activism, the relentless pressure, the public letters, the weekly legal firebombs the Radical New Bar had been hurling at the Supreme Court, demanding action. The judges listened, some perhaps amused, others with the quiet satisfaction of warriors who had just emerged victorious in a long and bloody intellectual battle.

The apology was sincere, but let’s be honest—this war was necessary. The Radical New Bar, under the fearless and uncompromising leadership of Isaac K. Ssemakadde, fought like hell to make this ruling happen. The legal establishment had long grown too comfortable, too resigned to waiting indefinitely for judgments while civilians continued to be dragged before military tribunals. The RNB was having none of it. Weekly press conferences, legal activism so sharp it cut through the silence, direct challenges to judicial inertia—this was lawfare at its finest. And in the end, the pressure worked.

The judgment is now out, and the message is clear: no more military courts for civilians. No more kangaroo justice. No more legal intimidation. If the army wants to try someone, that person better be wearing a uniform. Otherwise, they belong in the courts of law established by the Constitution. And for those still clinging to the old ways, still hoping that military justice can be used as a tool of fear and suppression? Pack up your case files. Your era is over.

For the Uganda People’s Defence Forces, the ruling leaves no room for negotiation. Civilians currently facing trial in military courts must be released. Every ongoing case must be dropped. Any attempt to defy this ruling will not just be illegal—it will be suicidal. The ULS and the RNB are watching. The Supreme Court is watching. And the Ugandan people, tired of impunity, will not tolerate another second of this nonsense.

Parliament? Time to clean house. The UPDF Act needs to be amended—immediately. Those loopholes that allowed military courts to overstep their jurisdiction must be sealed permanently. No more ambiguity, no more exploitation of civilians through legal gymnastics. This ruling has set the standard, now it’s up to lawmakers to ensure the law reflects it. And the Executive? The President, the Attorney General, the Director of Public Prosecutions—they need to act. Not tomorrow, not next week. Now.

For those who still think this is just another ruling, another judgment to be ignored or manipulated—think again. This is the beginning of a new era. The days when military courts were used as tools of intimidation are gone. The days when civilians had to fear being hauled before unqualified military judges who don’t know the difference between fair trial rights and a parade drill are gone. This is what victory looks like.

Uganda’s legal profession will never be the same. The Supreme Court has reaffirmed its place in history. The Radical New Bar has cemented its reputation as the most effective force for legal accountability in modern Uganda. And the Constitution? It has won. The rule of law has won. Justice has won.

The revolution is here, and it has no brakes.

A copy of the Judgment can be found here

AG v Hon Micheal Kabaziguruka SC Const Appeal N_250131_153316 Download

The statement of the Uganda Law Society welcoming the Judgment can be found here

supreme court statement Download

Enen Ambrose is a Rule of Law enthusiast and a supporter of the firebrand president of the Uganda Law Society, Isaac K Ssemakade.

Disclaimer: This write up is for informational purposes only and should not be taken as a substitute for professional legal advice. Readers are advised to seek the services of a qualified attorney in their area of Jurisdiction for situation specific legal advice and course of action.

Do you have a story in your community that sheds light on the Rule of Law discourse that you want us to discuss about? Or do you have valuable constructive feedback for us?

Please reach out to us on, ambrosenen@gmail.com or +256789856805

January 31, 2025
Anarchy’s Throne: The Fall of Justice(A Bold Call to Defend the Rule of Law)

Without the Rule of Law, chaos shall reign,
A nation adrift, drowning in pain.
The President speaks with pride and flair,
Banning bond and bail, without a care.
But hear this now, hear it loud,
The law is not a weapon for the proud!
Chief Justice, rise, your gavel is strong,
The law must lead, not bend to wrong.
Disregard the whispers, disregard the call,
For justice must stand, above them all!

Kale Kayihura once ruled with fear,
A terror of torture, pain, and tear.
But when the law turned, his empire crumbled,
The mighty fell, their lies stumbled.
Now, IGP, do not cower to power,
You must guard the law, every hour!
The President may demand, but you know the truth—
Justice, not politics, must be the proof.
You hold the line, between peace and strife,
Do not let tyranny consume our life.

Amama Mbabazi, the crafty man,
With whispers and wires, his plans began.
But the law, sharp as a blade, cut him through,
Exposing his schemes, bringing him to view.
Now, let this be the lesson, loud and clear,
The law cannot be twisted by fear.
So, let the courts rise, let justice shine,
For without the law, there’s no peace, no line.

Ssemakadde has spoken, a voice so true,
Corruption must fall, but human rights too!
The President may ban, may shout, may roar,
But the law is the shield we must restore!
So lawyers, rise! Stand with boldness and grace,
For in the law, we find our place.
Defend the weak, defend the right,
For justice is the beacon, shining bright!

The time is now, the call is clear,
Stand firm, stand tall, without fear.
For if we fall, the people will cry,
But if we stand, justice will never die!
Bail may be banned, bond cast aside,
But the law—the law—must always guide!

Happy New Year 2025.

Enen Ambrose (Advocate)

ambrosenen@gmail.com | +256789856805

January 1, 2025
The Radical New Bar Revolution: Expulsions, Boycotts, and the Battle for the Soul of Uganda’s Legal Profession

Let’s not sugarcoat it: Uganda’s legal profession is in chaos. President Isaac Ssemakadde, the firebrand leader of the Uganda Law Society (ULS), has declared war—on the judiciary, on government interference, and, if necessary, on tradition itself. This isn’t your grandfather’s bar association anymore; it’s a Radical New Bar, blazing through a tired, creaking legal system with orders that feel less like bureaucratic memos and more like the opening shots of a revolution.

It began with Executive Order No. 1 of 2024, a political earthquake that saw the Attorney General and Solicitor General expelled from the ULS Council. Yes, you read that right: expelled. Not asked to step aside politely, not nudged toward the door—expelled. President Ssemakadde called their presence a colonial hangover, an outdated relic that kept the Bar shackled to government influence.

“The AG cannot serve two masters!” Ssemakadde thundered, and just like that, the most senior government lawyers were tossed out of the Council, their titles no longer recognized in what Ssemakadde calls “the House of Justice.” It was a raw, messy, unapologetic power move, the kind that made half the room cheer and the other half gasp. Love him or hate him, the man is not here to play.

The Call to Boycott: Executive Order No. 3—A Legal Bloodbath?

And now here we are, riding the shockwaves of Executive Order No. 3 of 2024, where the stakes have climbed even higher. This time, it’s not just government lawyers feeling the heat—it’s the advocates. All of them.

The ULS has called for a boycott of Judge Musa Ssekaana’s court. Advocates are being ordered—yes, ordered—to stay away. The revolution demands solidarity. The revolution demands sacrifice. But here’s the burning question twisting every lawyer’s stomach: what happens when revolution clashes with professional duty?

Imagine this: you’re an advocate with a client who’s been waiting months, maybe years for their day in court. They’ve sold their land, borrowed money, staked their entire future on this case. And now, because of the boycott, you’re supposed to turn to them and say: “Sorry, justice is on hold this month. We’re making a point.”

Your professional ethics scream at you to stand by your client. The Advocates Act tells you that your duty to your client is sacred, almost holy. But the ULS says otherwise. The ULS says that this fight—this boycott—is bigger than you, bigger than your client, bigger than this one case.

And if you defy the ULS? If you walk into Judge Ssekaana’s courtroom and do your job? Then what? Are you a traitor to the cause? A sellout? Will the ULS come for you next?

This is not just a professional dilemma. This is a moral crucible, a test of loyalty, a trial by fire. Will you risk your client’s future, or will you risk your career? Isaac Ssemakadde has thrown down the gauntlet, and every lawyer in Uganda must decide where they stand.

A Law Society Without Teeth? The ULS’s Fight for Power

But here’s the twist that turns this legal thriller on its head: Can the ULS actually enforce any of this?

Let’s step back for a moment. Under the Uganda Law Society Act, the ULS is tasked with upholding professional standards and improving the conduct of lawyers. But there’s a catch: the ULS can’t legally punish anyone. Not really.

Disciplinary power lies with the Law Council, a separate government-anchored body. The ULS can yell, it can shout, it can issue Executive Orders with the fire and fury of a thousand revolutions—but at the end of the day, it cannot fine you. It cannot suspend you. It cannot strip you of your right to practice law.

What it can do is drag your name through the mud, isolate you, and question your loyalty to the cause. And in a profession where reputation is everything, that’s no small threat. The ULS may not have teeth, but it has a loud voice, and right now, it’s shouting for all the world to hear.

So what happens if an advocate defies the boycott and the ULS tries to discipline them? The answer is a legal nightmare. The accused advocate would challenge the ULS’s authority in court, and—oh, the irony!—they’d find themselves stuck in the very judiciary the boycott condemns.

Justice delayed? Oh, yes. Justice delayed for years. That’s Uganda’s court system for you: clogged, slow, and sometimes deliberately obstructive. By the time the courts decide who’s right and who’s wrong, the boycott will be ancient history, and the ULS’s revolution will either be a roaring success or a long-forgotten whisper.

The Bigger Battle: A Fight for Autonomy

When Ssemakadde expelled the Attorney General and Solicitor General, he wasn’t just flexing muscle—he was making a declaration of independence. He wants the ULS to be a fully autonomous Bar, like those in Canada, South Africa, and other legal systems where the profession regulates itself, free from government influence.

Take Canada’s Law Society of Ontario. There, the Bar has real power: it disciplines lawyers, sets standards, and protects the profession’s integrity. No government official sits at their table, holding sway over decisions that affect the legal profession.

In Uganda, the presence of government lawyers on the ULS Council undermines that independence. Critics have long argued that the Attorney General and Solicitor General, as government agents, represent a conflict of interest—how can they serve both the executive and the profession simultaneously?

By kicking them out, Ssemakadde ripped off the bandage and exposed the wound. But the wound is far from healed. Until the ULS is given real disciplinary authority, until it can act without begging the Law Council for enforcement, the revolution will remain just that: a revolution, full of fire but not yet law.

The Chaos and the Choice

The ULS has lit the match. The lawyers of Uganda now face the fire.

Do they comply with Executive Order No. 3 and boycott the court, risking their clients’ cases, their livelihoods, and their professional ethics?
Or do they stand up and say no, risking isolation, humiliation, and the fury of the Radical New Bar?

This isn’t just a battle for the courts. It’s a battle for the soul of Uganda’s legal profession.

Isaac Ssemakadde has made it clear: there’s no room for compromise. You’re either with the revolution or against it. And if you’re against it, you’ll have to answer not just to the ULS but to the future of justice in Uganda.

The system is broken, yes. The courts are failing, yes. But will boycotts and expulsions fix it? Or are they just adding more chaos to the madness?

What happens next is up to Uganda’s advocates. The storm is here, and every lawyer must decide: Will you stand in the rain, or will you bring the thunder?

The revolution has begun. Where do you stand?

My about me on my other blog posts and other useful disclaimers

December 17, 2024