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  • Foot Soldiers Fight Back: Free Speech, Social Media, and the Battle for Judicial Accountability in Uganda

    Foot Soldiers Fight Back: Free Speech, Social Media, and the Battle for Judicial Accountability in Uganda

    Judicial power in Uganda is not a divine right handed down to judges in solemn robes. It is borrowed authority from the people, and when borrowed power is abused, the lenders have every right to demand accountability. That is what happened when Ugandans erupted in fury over Justice Douglas Singiza’s decision to adjourn a habeas corpus application, effectively prolonging an already illegal detention.

    This was not an internet tantrum—it was a constitutional defense mission, executed in real-time by citizens who understand their rights better than some of the people wearing wigs in courtrooms. Article 126(1) of the Constitution is clear:

    Judicial power is derived from the people and shall be exercised in conformity with the law and with values, norms, and aspirations of the people.”

    So, when the people declare that a ruling has spat on their constitutional values, they are not just complaining—they are executing their duty to keep judicial power in check.

    This is not the first time Singiza has found himself at the center of a human rights disaster. When Kakwenza Rukirabashaija, a novelist and torture victim, applied to retrieve his passport for urgent medical treatment abroad, it was Singiza—then Chief Magistrate at Buganda Road Court—who denied him. His reasoning?

    👉 “Ugandan hospitals can handle his condition.”

    Imagine suffering broken ribs, festering wounds, and open scars from state torture, only for a judge to declare that a hospital in Wandegeya is sufficient to handle what should be a war crimes case. This is the same judge who, three years later, sends Besigye and Lutale back to illegal detention while he thinks about their habeas corpus plea.

    The pattern is now too clear to ignore—delayed justice when it benefits the state, procedural gymnastics when fundamental rights are at stake, and then a full-blown judicial meltdown when the public calls it out.

    And how did Singiza react to the backlash? Like a true 21st-century authoritarian—he made the ruling about himself. Instead of addressing the constitutional chaos he created, he spent his precious obiter dicta crying about online criticism.

    What’s next? Should Ugandans start seeking judicial permission before commenting on court decisions? Must all legal critiques now be submitted in triplicate, with an affidavit from a Senior Advocate?

    This is a dangerous trend—a creeping attempt to criminalize judicial criticism and insulate courts from the same public scrutiny that every other arm of government faces.

    The executive is insulted daily.
    The legislature is mocked in real-time.
    The military is dragged through the mud.

    But the judiciary wants to be untouchable?

    In Onyango Obbo & Andrew Mwenda v. Attorney General, the Supreme Court made it clear that public officials—including judges—must tolerate criticism. Free speech does not require politeness, and it is not invalidated because it offends the recipient.

    Yet, here we are, watching judges compose emotional victim statements in court rulings instead of defending the Constitution.

    This is not judicial independence—this is judicial fragility.

    Uganda has reached a crossroads: either the judiciary remembers that it serves the people, or the people will remind it in ways it will never forget. Judicial power, like all borrowed authority, can be reclaimed when misused.

    This is not a warning.
    This is a constitutional reminder.

    DISCLAIMER: This blog is not intended to mock or attack the person of the Hon. Justice Douglas Ssingiza. It is commentary on the interesting obiter dicta in the Habeas Corpus Application of Dr. Kizza Besigye and Obeid Lutale vs. Attorney General. The Ruling in that case can be found here:

    Rtd Col Kiiza Besigye and others-No -02-2025 dks_1-KsDownload

    The author is a Rule of enthusiast. More in the about page.

  • NO APOLOGIES, NO SURRENDER: THE RADICAL NEW BAR TAKES THE JUDICIARY TO WAR

    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

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

    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_153316Download

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

    supreme court statementDownload

    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

  • The Invisible Crisis: Domestic Workers, Child Abuse, and the Urgent Call for Reform in Uganda


    In the dead of night, in the shadow of suburban homes, a quiet crisis unfolds—a crisis so pervasive, so searing, that its scars are too often ignored. It’s the story of the forgotten, the unseen: the domestic workers who scrub our floors, cook our meals, and care for our children. But behind their tireless work lies an underbelly of exploitation, a cycle of pain and resentment that breeds unimaginable cruelty.

    Photo Credit: Daily Monitor, Uganda


    Imagine a child, no older than a toddler, helplessly crying out as a maid—someone entrusted with their safety—lashes out in violence. It isn’t fiction. It’s the stark reality of Uganda today. Jolly Tumuhiirwe, the maid filmed mercilessly torturing a toddler in 2014, became the face of a brutal phenomenon. Her face, twisted in anger, her hands raised to strike—captured in grainy footage that would haunt us forever. It was not just the horrifying sight of a child being brutalized. It was the image of a system so broken, it allowed this cruelty to flourish in the first place.

    Tumuhiirwe’s vile act was far from an isolated incident. In 2017, Juliet Nanyonjo, another maid, was caught on camera strangling a six-month-old infant she was hired to look after. The infant’s desperate gasps for air were a harrowing cry for help from a child unable to protect themselves from the violence of someone whose very job was to nurture and care. This was not an isolated act of brutality; this was the outcry of a broken system, where the emotional toll on domestic workers pushed them to lash out at the most vulnerable—children who had no voice, no power.

    But why do these workers, often women themselves, turn to such extremes? Why is it that some—just a few—feel the need to vent their anger and frustration on children? To truly understand this, we must peel back the layers of systemic failure that lead to these horrors.

    A System That Breeds Violence: How Abuse is Manufactured

    At the core of this problem lies a system that has long neglected the rights and humanity of domestic workers. These women—many of them mothers, daughters, and sisters—are tasked with the most sensitive of duties: caring for our families. Yet, their labor is often undervalued, their working conditions unbearable, and their voices silenced.

    Imagine working 12 to 16 hours a day, with no set break, no proper compensation, and no respect. Picture living in overcrowded, unkempt quarters, with no privacy or dignity. And for those who dare speak out, the threat of being replaced by another desperate soul looms large. This is the grim reality for many domestic workers. They are often invisible—seen only as tools to be used and discarded at will.

    And when their bodies and spirits are worn thin by exhaustion and mistreatment, it is the children who bear the brunt of their anger. Those innocent beings, who trust in the adults around them, become the objects of misplaced rage. When a maid tortures a child, it is not just an individual act of cruelty—it is the product of years of exploitation, neglect, and emotional trauma. Workers who are constantly under pressure, constantly treated as subhuman, inevitably break. The violence is not a reflection of their inherent nature but a symptom of a broken system that has pushed them to the edge.

    The Minimum Wage Debate: A Dead End for Reform

    The absence of a minimum wage in Uganda is more than just a legal issue—it’s a crisis in human dignity. Domestic workers are paid a pittance for the backbreaking work they perform. Often, they receive far less than a living wage, and their hours are unregulated. This leaves them vulnerable not only to economic exploitation but also to psychological and emotional abuse. With little hope of earning a decent living, many domestic workers are forced to stay in situations that drain them of their energy, their spirit, and their will to continue.

    The Employment Bill, which was meant to address this issue, has been languishing in Parliament for years. Despite proposals for minimum wages, regulated working hours, and better working conditions, the bill has failed to pass into law. This failure is not just a legislative oversight; it is a moral failure—a failure to protect the most vulnerable members of our society.

    Without a legal framework that guarantees fair wages and basic protections, domestic workers are left at the mercy of their employers. And when an employer turns a blind eye to their well-being, or worse, exploits them for financial gain, the worker becomes a ticking time bomb—her anger and frustration building to a breaking point. The result is often tragic.

    How Other Jurisdictions Have Tackled the Issue

    The abuse of domestic workers is not a problem unique to Uganda. Countries around the world have struggled with similar issues, but many have taken significant steps to address the systemic exploitation of domestic workers. And while no system is perfect, these reforms serve as a reminder that change is not only possible—it is necessary.

    1. The Philippines: As one of the largest exporters of domestic labor, the Philippines has long grappled with issues of abuse against domestic workers. In response, the country passed Republic Act No. 10361 (the Domestic Workers Act), which provides protections for workers, including fair wages, regulated working hours, and the right to safe working conditions. This law also mandates that workers receive at least one day off per week, paid holidays, and protection from abuse.


    2. United Arab Emirates (UAE): The UAE has a significant population of migrant domestic workers, many from Southeast Asia and Africa. In 2017, the UAE introduced the Domestic Workers Law, which provides workers with a minimum wage, regulated hours, and protections against physical and verbal abuse. The law also requires that workers’ salaries be paid on time, and that they receive rest periods during their shifts.


    3. South Africa: In 2013, South Africa passed the Basic Conditions of Employment Act (BCEA), which extended labor protections to domestic workers. This legislation set limits on working hours, mandated paid leave, and established a minimum wage for domestic workers. This law has been a landmark victory in the fight for labor rights, ensuring that domestic workers are no longer treated as second-class citizens.


    4. Brazil: In Brazil, the Domestic Workers’ Law of 2013 was a groundbreaking reform that extended labor protections to domestic workers. This law guarantees workers the right to a minimum wage, paid leave, overtime pay, and a regulated workweek. It was a significant step forward in recognizing the rights of domestic workers and ensuring their dignity and well-being.



    These examples show us that meaningful reforms are not only possible—they are essential. By enacting similar laws in Uganda, we can begin to create a system that values domestic workers, protects them from abuse, and provides them with the dignity they deserve.

    ILO’s Role and International Legal Framework

    Uganda is a signatory to several international treaties that address the rights of domestic workers. Among these is the International Labour Organization (ILO) Convention No. 189 on Domestic Workers, adopted in 2011. This treaty sets out comprehensive labor rights for domestic workers, including the right to decent working conditions, protection from abuse, and the right to fair pay. It requires member states to implement laws that regulate working hours, establish minimum wages, and provide protections against exploitation.

    Uganda, like many countries, has yet to fully integrate these protections into its national laws. While the Employment Bill has been proposed, the failure to enact it into law leaves domestic workers vulnerable to mistreatment and exploitation. The ILO Convention No. 189 calls on governments to ensure that domestic workers enjoy the same rights as other workers, and Uganda must live up to these obligations.

    The Universal Declaration of Human Rights also provides a framework for protecting the dignity and rights of all workers, including domestic workers. Article 23 of the declaration states that everyone has the right to work in favorable conditions, receive equal pay for equal work, and enjoy the right to rest and leisure. Uganda must heed these global standards and enact reforms that protect domestic workers from abuse and ensure that their labor is properly valued.

    Empathy Over Abuse: How We Can Break the Cycle

    The cycle of abuse must end. But to break it, we must address the root causes. We must recognize that domestic workers are not disposable. They are not invisible. They are human beings deserving of the same rights, the same respect, and the same protections as any other worker.

    To the employers of Uganda: How long will we continue to dehumanize the very individuals who care for our children, cook our meals, and clean our homes? How long will we let the vulnerability of these workers be exploited for our benefit? Empathy cannot be an afterthought. It must be the foundation of our treatment of domestic workers. They are not machines to be used and discarded. They are women, mothers, daughters, sisters. Their pain is real, their anger justified. When they lash out, it is because they have been ignored for far too long. The time for kindness, respect, and justice is now.

    To Hon. Betty Amongi, the Minister of Gender, Labour and Social Development, and the Parliament of Uganda: The time to act is now. The Employment Bill must no longer be allowed to gather dust in the corridors of Parliament. We demand that this bill be passed into law, that it provide a minimum wage, regulated working hours, and comprehensive protections for domestic workers. If we continue to let these workers be exploited, we are complicit in their suffering. The stories of maids breaking down, of children tortured, of lives shattered, will not fade. They will only grow louder. **

    About Author.

    ENEN AMBROSE

    The Author is a Rule of Law enthusiast, an Advocate of the Courts of Judicature and a believer in progressive realization of full enjoyment of social, political and economic rights by all peoples.

    DISCLAIMER:

    All information here is only intended to provide information and to spark public discourse on the subject. No part of this Blog Post is intended to be used as Legal Advice. The author accepts no responsibility for any loss or injury arising from the use of the information contained in this post as Legal Advice. Readers are strongly encouraged to consult with a qualified attorney in their areas of Jurisdiction for situation specific advice and appropriate course of action.

    If you find this Blog interesting, please like, comment and share with your friends and colleagues on your favorite social media platforms.

    Do you have a development that you feel needs a discussion? Or do you have any feedback for us? Please reach out to us on ambrosenen@gmail.com or mobile +256789856805.

  • Anarchy’s Throne: The Fall of Justice(A Bold Call to Defend the Rule of Law)

    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

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

    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

  • Judiciary on Trial: Delayed Justice, Judicial Overreach, and Uganda’s Fight for Legal Accountability

    Judiciary on Trial: Delayed Justice, Judicial Overreach, and Uganda’s Fight for Legal Accountability

    Uganda’s judiciary stands at a defining moment. With its recent pattern of issuing injunctions against the Uganda Law Society’s (ULS) internal processes, the courts appear to have placed themselves in opposition to democratization, accountability, and reform. The High Court’s recent ruling in Mugisha Hashim Mugisha & Pheona Nabasa Wall v. ULS, which blocked an Extraordinary General Meeting (EGM) to elect ULS nominees for the Judicial Service Commission (JSC), is the latest episode in this disturbing trend.

    But this isn’t just about one ruling. It’s about a systemic pattern: one where the judiciary blocks ULS EGMs for years, grants temporary injunctions that morph into indefinite barriers, and delays rulings while the status quo prevails. Cases such as Brian Kirima v. ULS (2024) and Attorney General v. ULS (2024) illustrate this concerning dynamic, where judicial delays and contradictory rulings obstruct the ULS’s statutory mandate to protect the rule of law.

    The question we must ask is simple but urgent: Is the judiciary afraid of the Radical Surgery being performed by the Radical New Bar? Is this an attempt to resist reform and entrench unelected power in Uganda’s legal system?

    The Radical New Bar’s Vision for Reform

    Under President Ssemakade, the Radical New Bar has spearheaded a bold revolution. This movement is more than a change in leadership—it’s a demand for transparency, democracy, and accountability across Uganda’s legal system. The adoption of Executive Order No. 2 of 2024 was a defining moment, directing the ULS to convene elections for JSC nominees. These elections represented a critical step in dismantling decades of unelected power and reforming the judiciary.

    For too long, unelected ULS representatives have served on the JSC well past their lawful tenure. These representatives wield significant power over judicial appointments, often without public accountability. Ssemakade’s reforms sought to change this by ensuring that ULS members could elect their representatives democratically—a step toward restoring public trust in the judiciary.

    But the judiciary’s recent rulings raise a troubling question: Are the courts complicit in protecting the unelected elite and resisting much-needed reform?

    Judicial Overreach: A Pattern of Obstruction

    The recent ruling in Mugisha & Wall is part of a broader pattern of judicial interference. Courts have repeatedly issued injunctions that block the ULS from convening EGMs, leaving important governance issues unresolved. In Brian Kirima v. ULS (2024), for example, the High Court issued a temporary injunction blocking the ULS from holding an EGM requested by its members. The court justified this decision by claiming that the meeting might lead to resolutions outside the ULS’s statutory mandate.

    Similarly, in Attorney General v. ULS (2024), the court issued a permanent injunction prohibiting the ULS from convening an EGM to discuss judicial misconduct allegations. The court argued that such discussions would infringe on the independence of the judiciary and encroach on the Judicial Service Commission’s (JSC) mandate. While protecting judicial independence is crucial, these rulings have had the effect of stifling the ULS’s role as a watchdog for the rule of law.

    The judiciary’s actions create a chilling effect, sending a message that the ULS cannot hold its own members or representatives accountable without judicial interference. This is particularly troubling when unelected JSC representatives continue to serve beyond their lawful tenure, shielded by the very courts that should ensure accountability.

    Preliminary Issues Ignored: A Missed Opportunity

    The Mugisha & Wall case could have been resolved on preliminary issues, sparing the judiciary from issuing an injunction that has paralyzed ULS processes.

    1. The Question of Locus Standi

    The first applicant, Mugisha Hashim Mugisha, lacked the locus standi required to bring the case. Judicial review, as outlined in Rule 3 of the Judicature (Judicial Review) Rules, 2019, is reserved for those who can demonstrate that they are directly affected by an administrative decision. Mugisha was neither a candidate for the JSC election nor a suspended council member. His application, therefore, lacked the specific and tangible interest necessary for judicial review.

    This procedural flaw should have been addressed as a preliminary issue, as it rendered the entire case speculative and unwarranted. Resolving this question at the outset would have saved valuable judicial resources and avoided the need for an injunction that undermines democratic processes.

    2. Wall’s Ineligibility for the JSC

    The second applicant, Pheona Nabasa Wall, was constitutionally disqualified from being nominated to the JSC. Article 146(2)(b) of the Constitution requires nominees to have 15 years of standing as an advocate of the High Court. Wall’s candidacy was contested by the ULS Elections Committee, which submitted an affidavit from Brownie Ebal stating that Wall had only 14.6 years of standing as of December 3, 2024.

    This affidavit, a critical piece of evidence, was never challenged or controverted by Wall. Under Ugandan case law, uncontroverted evidence is deemed admitted. In Samwiri Massa v. Rose Achieng (1978), the Court of Appeal held that failure to rebut sworn evidence amounts to acceptance of its truth. By failing to address this disqualification as a preliminary matter, the court allowed a constitutionally flawed case to proceed.

    Had the court addressed either of these issues, the Mugisha & Wall case could have been resolved early, preserving the judiciary’s resources and ensuring compliance with constitutional and procedural law.

    Delayed Justice: A Crisis of Accountability

    Another critical issue raised by this ruling is the delayed justice that has plagued Uganda’s legal system for years. The Mugisha & Wall case is not unique—temporary injunctions like those in Brian Kirima v. ULS have effectively frozen the ULS’s ability to act for years. The main cases often remain unresolved, leaving the temporary orders in place indefinitely.

    For instance:

    In Brian Kirima v. ULS (2024), the court blocked an EGM requisitioned by ULS members, claiming it might lead to illegal resolutions. However, the main case remains unresolved, and the temporary injunction continues to prevent the ULS from fulfilling its statutory mandate.

    In Attorney General v. ULS (2024), the court ruled against an EGM to discuss judicial misconduct, citing concerns over judicial independence. This ruling has effectively shielded unelected representatives and delayed meaningful conversations about reform within the ULS.

    Such delays raise serious concerns about the judiciary’s commitment to justice. Is the judiciary using procedural delays to block reform and protect entrenched interests?

    The Unelected JSC Representatives: A Block on Reform

    The judiciary’s rulings have effectively protected unelected ULS representatives on the JSC, who continue to serve beyond their tenure. These representatives hold immense power over judicial appointments, shaping the judiciary in ways that lack public accountability. Ssemakade’s Radical New Bar sought to challenge this system by introducing elections for JSC nominees, but the judiciary’s actions have delayed this critical reform.

    Without elections, the same unelected representatives will continue to serve well past February 2025, when their lawful tenure expires. This delay not only undermines democracy but also perpetuates a system where judicial appointments remain opaque and unaccountable.

    Benedicto Kiwanuka’s Warning: A Judiciary at Risk

    The story of Benedicto Kiwanuka serves as a grim reminder of what happens when the judiciary fails to uphold the rule of law. Kiwanuka’s abduction and disappearance under Idi Amin’s regime marked the judiciary’s collapse into irrelevance. His fate was not just a personal tragedy but a warning about the dangers of judicial complacency.

    Today, the judiciary risks repeating this history. By obstructing reform and delaying justice, the courts are eroding public trust and undermining their own legitimacy. The Radical New Bar recognizes this danger and is committed to ensuring that the judiciary remains a pillar of democracy, not a shield for entrenched interests.

    A Call to Action: Defend the Rule of Law

    To the judiciary, we issue this warning: The Radical Surgery cannot be stopped. Reform is coming, and the judiciary must choose whether to lead the way or be swept aside. The courts must stop obstructing ULS EGMs, resolve cases without delay, and uphold their own precedents.

    To the ULS, we say this: Continue the fight. Defend your autonomy. Resist judicial interference. The Radical New Bar stands with you.

    Conclusion: A Revolution Awaits

    The judiciary is at a crossroads. It can choose to embrace reform, uphold accountability, and restore public trust, or it can continue to obstruct progress and protect the status quo. The Radical New Bar will not falter. We will fight for transparency, democracy, and justice at every turn.

    This is not just a reflection—it is a revolution.

    Disclaimer:
    These reflections are informed by Uganda’s legal and historical context. They do not seek to interfere with pending judicial matters but aim to provoke meaningful dialogue about the rule of law in Uganda.

  • Reflections on Protecting the Radical New Bar Revolution: A Call for Integrity and Reform in the ULS Elections

    Reflections on Protecting the Radical New Bar Revolution: A Call for Integrity and Reform in the ULS Elections



    As the Uganda Law Society (ULS) prepares for the election of its representatives to the Judicial Service Commission (JSC), we find ourselves at a critical juncture. President Isaac K. Ssemakade’s leadership under the Radical New Bar (RNB) has reignited the ULS’s commitment to justice, accountability, and transparency. Through RNB Executive Order No. 2 of 2024, he courageously recalled unelected representatives to the JSC, a move that was both revolutionary and necessary.

    This bold action was only the beginning. The forthcoming elections must uphold these revolutionary ideals by ensuring compliance with the law and protecting the credibility of the ULS.

    Salute comrade Kafuko Nicholas.
    I take this moment to personally credit Kafuko Nicholas, whose letter to the ULS Electoral Commission was the first to sound the alarm on the eligibility of certain candidates for the JSC positions. His insights into the inconsistencies and potential breaches of the law were not only timely but crucial in sparking this debate. Kafuko’s determination and dedication to upholding the rule of law remind us that true change begins with individuals willing to challenge the status quo.

    The Fundamental Issue: Greed and Conflict of Interest

    One cannot help but reflect on the underlying motivation of individuals who seek to hold onto one public office while simultaneously vying for representation in another. This is not merely a question of eligibility; it is a manifestation of greed of the highest order.

    The role of a ULS representative to the JSC demands complete independence, impartiality, and a commitment to the society’s interests above all else. Clinging to a public office while seeking this role undermines these principles. It reflects an unwillingness to relinquish power and privileges, raising serious questions about the candidate’s intentions and priorities.

    Public Officers and Electoral Integrity

    The Constitution of Uganda provides a clear definition of public officers under Article 175(a) and (b): those holding positions in public service and drawing their salaries from the Consolidated Fund. This definition unequivocally includes individuals employed in public universities, statutory bodies, and other government-funded entities.

    Uganda’s electoral laws for mainstream offices, including Members of Parliament, the Presidency, and Local Government, require public officers to resign before contesting. This ensures that such candidates do not misuse state resources or exploit their official positions to gain an unfair advantage.

    In the Mukasa v. Uganda Revenue Authority (Civil Appeal No. 78 of 2009) case, the Court of Appeal reinforced the understanding that public officers are individuals whose remuneration originates from government funds. This precedent further solidifies the argument that those holding public offices must resign before contesting for positions such as ULS representatives to the JSC.

    The Role of the Radical New Bar.

    President Ssemakade has laid the foundation for a new era of accountability and transparency within the ULS. However, the true test of the Radical New Bar Revolution lies in its ability to confront systemic flaws and safeguard the integrity of its processes.

    The nomination of public officers for the JSC election represents a clear conflict of interest and a betrayal of the principles the ULS stands for. Allowing such individuals to contest would not only violate the law but also tarnish the credibility of the Radical New Bar.

    My Reflections: Greed vs. Service

    At its core, the ULS represents a commitment to justice, fairness, and public service. The pursuit of multiple offices for personal gain betrays these values. It signals a prioritization of self-interest over the collective good of the legal fraternity and the judiciary.

    To those clinging to their public offices while seeking election to the JSC, I say this: the Radical New Bar is not a vehicle for your ambitions. It is a movement for accountability and reform, and it will not accommodate greed or unethical practices.

    A Call to Action: Reform and Accountability

    The ULS must seize this opportunity to address the systemic gaps that have allowed this situation to arise. I call upon the following stakeholders to act decisively:

    1. Uganda Law Society
    Amend the ULS Elections Regulations to explicitly require the resignation of public officers before nomination. This will align ULS processes with national electoral standards and prevent future ambiguities.


    2. Parliament of Uganda
    Introduce comprehensive reforms to harmonize electoral laws across all institutions, ensuring that the principles applied to mainstream elections are equally enforced in quasi-governmental and professional bodies.


    3. Judicial Service Commission
    Uphold strict eligibility criteria and work closely with the ULS to ensure that representatives are selected through a lawful and transparent process.


    4. Civil Society and Legal Advocacy Groups
    Amplify public awareness of these issues and hold all stakeholders accountable for maintaining the integrity of the JSC election.


    5. Legal Fraternity
    Embrace the spirit of reform and actively oppose any attempts to subvert the principles of fairness and transparency.



    Protecting the Revolution

    The Radical New Bar has sparked a revolution, but revolutions are fragile. They require constant vigilance, courageous leadership, and an unwavering commitment to the values they seek to uphold.

    President Ssemakade has demonstrated his willingness to confront the status quo, but his legacy—and the legacy of the Radical New Bar—depends on what we do next. By enforcing the law, addressing systemic flaws, and rejecting greed and self-interest, we can ensure that the ULS remains a beacon of justice and integrity.

    Conclusion

    The forthcoming election of ULS representatives to the Judicial Service Commission is not just a procedural matter; it is a defining moment for the Radical New Bar Revolution. We must honor the contributions of individuals like Kafuko Nicholas, whose vigilance has highlighted critical flaws in the process.

    Let this be a turning point. Let us demand accountability, embrace reform, and reject greed in all its forms. Together, we can protect the Radical New Bar Revolution and ensure that the Uganda Law Society lives up to its mission as a guardian of justice and fairness.

    The time to act is now. Let us build a legacy of integrity and accountability that will inspire future generations of legal professionals.

    About the Author.

    ENEN AMBROSE

    The author is a Rule of Law enthusiast, a fan of President Isaac K Ssemakade and the Radical New Bar Revolution. He practices with M/S Okurut-Magara Associated Advocates in the up country Town of Adjumani.

    DISCLAIMER:

    This write up contains merely personal reflections for information purposes and is not intended to provide legal advice. Readers are strongly encouraged to seek the services of a professional attorney in their area of Jurisdiction for situation specific advice and appropriate courses of action.

    Contact us:

    Mobile: 0789856805

    Email: ambrosenen@gmail.com

  • Reflections of the Uganda Law Council’s Refusal to License Martha Karua

    Reflections of the Uganda Law Council’s Refusal to License Martha Karua

    Rtd Col. Dr. Kiza Besigye. Photo credit: Wikipedia



    The refusal by the Uganda Law Council to grant Martha Karua, a distinguished Senior Counsel from Kenya, a temporary practicing license to represent Dr. Kizza Besigye in his ongoing trial before Uganda’s General Court Martial has raised significant concerns in my mind about Uganda’s legal system, regional cooperation, and political interference. In this post, I will break down my perspective on why this decision is problematic, critiquing the reasons provided by the Law Council and exploring the broader implications it has for both Uganda and the East African Community (EAC) at large.

    Background Context: The Case of Dr. Kizza Besigye

    Dr. Kizza Besigye, one of Uganda’s leading opposition figures, was invited to Nairobi by Martha Karua for a book launch. During this event, Besigye was allegedly found with a firearm in his hotel room, which led to his controversial extradition back to Uganda. This case is more than just a legal matter; it raises important issues surrounding Kenya’s sovereignty, extradition laws, and the treatment of political figures within the region. Besigye’s trial before the General Court Martial has been heavily scrutinized, especially in light of the Supreme Court’s recent stay of a ruling by the Constitutional Court in the case of Michael Kabaziguruka v. Attorney General (Constitutional Petition No. 45 of 2016), which had declared that military courts in Uganda have no jurisdiction to try civilians.

    The refusal to grant Karua a temporary license, made by the Uganda Law Council, appears to be a politically charged decision, occurring against the backdrop of these ongoing legal and political tensions. As a legal professional, I find this decision troubling, particularly when considering the broader implications for regional integration and the rule of law in Uganda.


    —

    The Reasons Cited by the Law Council for Denial

    The Uganda Law Council gave several reasons for denying Martha Karua a temporary license to practice law in Uganda for Besigye’s defense. Let’s examine these reasons critically and reflect on the potential political undertones and legal inconsistencies involved.

    1. Lack of Notarized Documents
    The Law Council argued that Karua’s application was incomplete because it lacked notarized copies of her practicing certificate, a letter of good standing, nationality documents, and academic qualifications.

    My View: This is a procedural issue that could have been easily remedied. Rather than outright denying the application, the Law Council could have requested the missing documents or offered Karua an opportunity to rectify the deficiencies. This decision to deny her based on minor technicalities rather than facilitating her compliance reflects poor administrative practice. A lawyer of Karua’s stature should not be obstructed by such minor procedural issues.



    2. Absence of a Valid Practicing Certificate for Erias Lukwago
    Another reason cited for the refusal was that Karua’s local sponsor, Erias Lukwago, did not have a valid practicing certificate. This was apparently a reason for not processing the application.

    My View: The idea that Karua’s application should be rejected because Lukwago did not provide a valid practicing certificate is misguided. Upon reviewing the Judiciary website, it is clear that Erias Lukwago has an active practicing certificate for 2024. The Law Council could have simply verified this information rather than using this as a reason to deny Karua’s application. The failure to make such a simple verification indicates either an oversight or an intentional attempt to complicate the process. This was an avoidable technicality that should not have been used as grounds for denial.



    3. No Special Expertise Brought by Karua
    The Law Council claimed that Karua did not bring any special skills that Uganda’s legal community lacked, suggesting that her involvement in the case was unnecessary.

    My View: This argument is deeply problematic. The client has a fundamental right to choose their lawyer, and Karua’s expertise was specifically sought by Dr. Besigye. Her representation was not about fulfilling some special legal need that Ugandan lawyers couldn’t address but rather about providing the client with a lawyer of their choice. This rationale dismisses the right of a person to have the legal representation they feel is best suited to their case. The Council’s argument undermines not only Besigye’s right to choose but also the principles of justice and fairness.



    4. Political Undertones
    The Law Council expressed concerns about the political nature of the case, suggesting that Karua’s involvement was motivated by politics, given her association with Besigye and her public stance as an advocate for democracy and human rights.

    My View: This is where I find the decision most troubling. The role of the Law Council is not to pass judgment on the political affiliations of individuals involved in legal proceedings but to ensure that justice is served. Karua’s political opinions or affiliations should have no bearing on the decision to allow her to practice temporarily. The Council’s decision seems to be a veiled attempt to politically sideline a lawyer based on her association with a political opponent of the government. This kind of interference in legal matters not only compromises the integrity of the Law Council but also undermines the fairness of the trial itself.



    5. Conduct Before Approval
    Karua was accused of “holding out” as an advocate before her application had been approved, due to her presence at the court proceedings.

    My View: Karua made it clear that she was attending the proceedings as a visiting jurist awaiting approval. She did not mislead the court or claim to be practicing without a license. The accusation seems to be an exaggeration, designed to discredit her professional integrity. This accusation, made without substantiation, adds to the sense that the Law Council was looking for any excuse to deny her application.



    6. Logistical Constraints of the Law Council
    The Law Council mentioned that it could not expedite the application process due to its members’ full-time commitments in other roles, making it difficult to process Karua’s application on time.

    My View: This is a failure of institutional management rather than a valid reason to deny an application. If the Law Council is unable to manage the process in a timely manner, it speaks to the need for reform within the institution. A delay caused by the Council’s own logistical constraints should not serve as a reason to deny an individual the right to practice law in Uganda, especially in a case of such significance.





    —

    The Double Standards of the Law Council

    One of the most glaring inconsistencies in this case is the selective application of the Law Council’s rules regarding foreign lawyers. Historical precedents show that the Council has granted temporary licenses to foreign lawyers when it suits the political interests of the government. For instance:

    John Khaminwa, a Kenyan lawyer, was allowed to represent President Museveni in a high-profile election petition before the Ugandan Supreme Court in 2001.

    Jim Gash, an American lawyer, was granted a temporary license to represent a client in Uganda, working on juvenile justice reform.


    These instances clearly demonstrate that the Law Council is capable of granting temporary licenses to foreign lawyers when it is politically convenient. However, when it comes to a case involving a prominent opposition figure like Dr. Besigye, the same flexibility is not applied. This selective approach casts doubt on the impartiality of the Law Council and raises questions about whether political considerations played a role in the denial of Karua’s application.


    —

    The Regional and International Implications

    The refusal to grant Karua a temporary practicing license also raises important questions about Uganda’s commitment to regional integration. The East African Community (EAC) Treaty and its protocols, including the Mutual Recognition Agreement (MRA), emphasize the free movement of professionals across member states, including legal practitioners. By denying Karua’s application, Uganda is in direct contradiction of these commitments, which could harm the spirit of regional cooperation that the EAC seeks to foster.

    Uganda’s actions appear to undermine the EAC’s goal of facilitating the free movement of labor and professional services. This decision is particularly paradoxical given President Museveni’s strong advocacy for regional integration. If Uganda continues to place political barriers in the way of legal professionals from other EAC member states, it risks isolating itself from the very integration processes that Museveni has long championed.


    —

    The Uganda Law Society’s Advocacy for Reform

    In response to the Law Council’s decision, the Uganda Law Society (ULS) has rightly condemned the denial of Karua’s application as per incuriam—legally flawed. The ULS has also called for reforms to ensure that such decisions are made impartially, without political interference. Some members of the ULS have even gone so far as to advocate for the abolition of the Law Council altogether, citing its growing susceptibility to political pressure and inefficiency in handling applications for foreign lawyers.

    I fully support this call for reform. The Law Council, and indeed all legal institutions, must operate with full independence, free from political influence. The integrity of Uganda’s legal system depends on the ability of lawyers to perform their duties without fear of political repercussions. The Law Council’s decision in Karua’s case demonstrates the need for urgent reform to ensure that legal institutions are better equipped to serve the principles of justice impartially.


    —

    My Call for Reform and Conclusion

    In conclusion, the Uganda Law Council’s decision to deny Martha Karua a temporary practicing license is not just a legal misstep but also a reflection of broader issues within Uganda’s legal system. The refusal to grant the license based on procedural technicalities, political undertones, and double standards casts doubt on the impartiality and fairness of the decision-making process. Furthermore, it contradicts Uganda’s commitments to regional integration and the free movement of professionals within the East African Community

    About author:

    ENEN AMBROSE

    The author is a Rule of Law enthusiast working at M/S Okurut-Magara Associated Advocates in the up country Town of Adjumani.

    DISCLAIMER: all information in this blog is for general knowledge and educational purposes and is not intended to provide legal advice. Readers are encouraged to seek qualified attorneys in their areas of Jurisdiction for situation specific legal advice and courses of action.

    Contact us:

    Mobile, 0789856805

    ambrosenen@gmail.com.

  • Safeguarding the Revolution: My Perspective on President Isaac K. Ssemakadde and the Radical New Bar

    Safeguarding the Revolution: My Perspective on President Isaac K. Ssemakadde and the Radical New Bar

    Credit. Isaac Ssemakade, profile photo on X (formerly Twitter)

    As an observer of the Uganda Law Society (ULS) and a proponent of transparency, fairness, and integrity within the legal profession, I find myself deeply aligned with the vision of President Isaac K. Ssemakadde. His leadership has been a crucial turning point for the ULS, not only through structural reforms but also by ensuring that individuals representing the Society, particularly in influential bodies like the Judicial Service Commission (JSC), meet the highest standards of moral character and constitutional integrity.

    Through his missives and public critiques, Ssemakadde is safeguarding a revolution—one that seeks to restore democratic principles, uphold the rule of law, and demand that those in leadership roles within the ULS and beyond exemplify high moral standing. I believe that in his recent actions, particularly his response to the election candidates for the JSC, Ssemakadde is doing much more than critiquing individuals—he is defending the integrity of the Radical New Bar.

    The Radical New Bar: A Vision for a Just and Transparent Legal Profession

    Ssemakadde’s vision, the Radical New Bar, reflects an urgent need for reform within the ULS, especially in its representation and governance structures. When he took office, it was clear that internal democracy had long been sidelined, leaving members with limited influence over key decisions. The Radical New Bar seeks to reverse this trend by ensuring that the ULS becomes an organization that truly listens to its members and works in the best interest of justice, transparency, and accountability.

    For me, the essence of the Radical New Bar is this: we cannot expect a society that represents justice if its leaders and representatives do not embody the principles of fairness, integrity, and moral strength. Ssemakadde’s actions demonstrate that the ULS should not merely be an institution concerned with professional development but a leader in ensuring democratic representation and ethical conduct.

    My Take on Regulation 17(5): A Necessary Safeguard for Electoral Integrity

    One of the more contentious aspects of the ULS Election Regulations is Regulation 17(5), which restricts media campaigns during elections to closed ULS groups. Critics argue that this regulation stifles freedom of expression by limiting candidates’ ability to campaign publicly. However, in my view, Regulation 17(5) plays an essential role in preserving the integrity of the election process.

    I believe that the primary function of the ULS election is to determine the best candidates based on their professional qualifications and commitment to the rule of law—not based on their ability to manipulate public opinion through media campaigns. Ssemakadde’s recent presser, condemning unauthorized media promotions that aimed to influence the election results, aligns with the intent of Regulation 17(5). In his actions, he is not only safeguarding the election’s fairness but also upholding the professionalism that should define the ULS elections. By ensuring that candidates are evaluated on their merits rather than their media presence, Ssemakadde is, in my view, defending the Radical New Bar against the dangers of external influence.

    In this light, Regulation 17(5) ensures that the focus of the election remains within the ULS community, allowing for a more substantive and focused campaign. For me, it’s a safeguard that ensures fair representation—a vital piece of the Radical New Bar’s broader vision.

    The Yasin Sentumbwe and Simon Semuwemba Case: Safeguarding Fairness and Justice

    Another example of Ssemakadde safeguarding the revolution lies in his defense of Yasin Sentumbwe and Simon Semuwemba, two students expelled from Uganda Christian University (UCU) in 2016 for leading protests against a tuition fee hike. The students were expelled without a fair hearing, and the Mukono High Court subsequently ruled that the university had violated their rights to natural justice. The Court reinstated the students and awarded them Shs 20 million in damages.

    In this context, when Ssemakadde publicly critiqued Dr. Kakooza for his role in the unlawful expulsion of the students, he was doing more than protecting individual rights. He was protecting the integrity of the ULS by calling out those whose actions fail to meet the constitutional muster for leadership. For me, this was a critical moment in safeguarding the revolution, ensuring that those who represent the ULS in positions of power, such as the JSC, must demonstrate an unwavering commitment to justice and fairness.

    Pheona Wall: The Stifling of Internal Democracy

    Ssemakadde’s critique of former ULS President Pheona Wall also serves as an example of him safeguarding the revolution. During Wall’s presidency, Ruth Sebatindira and Nora Matovu Winyi were nominated to the Judicial Service Commission, but their nominations were met with internal resistance from within the ULS Council. Specifically, Amolo Shamim, the Northern Uganda Representative during Francis Gimara’s presidency, publicly protested the nominations and expressed concerns about the lack of consultation anFor Ssemakadde, Wall’s actions represented a failure to respect internal democracy. Her nomination bid was nothing less than hypocrisy and double standards.

    Ssemakadde’s critique is, for me, an important reminder that leadership in the ULS should be inclusive, transparent, and responsive to the needs and views of its members. By calling out Wall’s failure to engage with internal opposition, Ssemakadde ensured that the Radical New Bar did not slip back into the undemocratic practices of the past.

    Ssemakadde’s Legacy: A Leader for Integrity

    Through his missives, public critiques, and his commitment to ensuring that only those with high moral standing and proven integrity are allowed to represent the ULS in influential roles, President Ssemakadde is safeguarding the revolution. His work is not only about structural reforms; it is about ensuring that the Radical New Bar remains true to its core principles of justice, accountability, and moral integrity.

    As we look toward the 17th December, 2024 ULS elections for our representatives to the Judicial Service Commission, I believe that the path Ssemakadde has laid will lead to a stronger, more transparent ULS—one that is rooted in democratic values and constitutional integrity. The Radical New Bar is not just a vision for reform; it is a movement for change that calls on all ULS members to take ownership of the future of Uganda’s legal profession.

    In his missives, Ssemakadde is not simply criticizing individuals; he is protecting the gains of the Radical New Bar Revolution and the integrity of the ULS, ensuring that it remains a beacon of justice, and a force for fairness in Uganda’s legal landscape. Through these efforts, Ssemakadde is laying the groundwork for a legal community that can lead the way in accountability, integrity, and the rule of law. This is the future of the ULS—a future shaped by the Radical New Bar, one that will thrive in an environment of justice and democratic engagement.

    About the author.

    The author is a rule of Law enthusiast and a huge fan of President Isaac Ssemakade, the current President of the Uganda Law Society.

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