Every election cycle in Uganda arrives like clockwork: loud campaigns, fresh slogans, recycled promises, and once again, the opposition rises with renewed declarations of war against the ruling regime. Yet as 2026 nears, a sobering question confronts the average Ugandan citizen, not with curiosity but with fatigue: Does the opposition still exist in any meaningful form?
To ask this is not to dismiss the courage, arrests, or sacrifices made by individual opposition figures. Rather, it is to question the coherence, impact, and direction of their efforts. Because paradoxically, while the opposition claims to be fighting—and even “winning”—against the long-standing National Resistance Movement (NRM) and its leader President Museveni, their actual strategies and internal behavior often amount to unintentional reinforcement of the very regime they seek to dismantle.
At the heart of this political tragedy lies the cancer of division. Ugandan opposition parties operate more like competing tribes than collaborators in a liberation movement. They fracture over personality clashes, ideological thinness, and short-term egotistical goals. What should have been a formidable, united front against an entrenched political machine has instead become a theatre of public disunity—one that the regime watches with silent satisfaction.
Whenever a new coalition is announced, it is not long before accusations, betrayals, or defections follow. Figures once hailed as patriots become branded as moles. Political capital is spent on Twitter spats and press conferences, not community building or ideological consolidation. In the eyes of the ruling party, this is not just a political failure—it is a gift. Because every time the opposition fights itself, it confirms the regime’s narrative that they are disorganized, immature, and unfit to govern.
This is how the opposition continues to “lose while claiming to fight.” The rhetoric may be radical, the tone defiant, but the ground game is weak, fragmented, and occasionally absent. Behind the speeches and slogans lies a fundamental truth: without unity of purpose, even the most righteous cause collapses under its own contradictions.
The result? A disillusioned public. For the average Ugandan, particularly the politically conscious youth, what was once a source of hope has become an object of mockery. Conversations now sound like this: “What happened to that alliance?” “Didn’t they say they were storming State House?” “Weren’t they just attacking each other last week?” The opposition, in trying to appear as resistance, has unintentionally become a parody of resistance.
Philosophically, this raises a deep question about authenticity: Is it possible to oppose something externally while unknowingly serving it internally? The Ugandan opposition’s repeated tactical blunders, inability to present a unified vision, and hunger for individual prominence suggest that they may indeed be “opposing” in form but “strengthening” in consequence.
This is the regime’s silent strategy: do nothing and let them undo themselves. And so far, it’s working.
Even worse, this division robs the opposition of the moral authority it so desperately needs. For a regime to fall, its replacement must not only be credible—it must be more credible. But when the opposition’s most visible trait becomes internal infighting rather than institutional building, then the regime, however flawed, begins to look like the more stable option. It is the lesser evil by default, not by virtue.
What the opposition fails to grasp is that people do not just vote based on anger at the ruling power—they also vote based on hope in the alternative. And when the alternative is fractured, disorganized, and uncertain, people retreat into cynicism, abstain from participation, or simply vote for continuity, not out of loyalty, but out of fear.
So again, should Ugandans expect something positive in 2026?
If nothing changes within the opposition, the answer is grim. The electorate cannot continue to expect different results from the same disjointed formulas. There is still time, but that time is running out. Something positive in 2026 will not come from noise or numbers alone—it must come from strategy, sacrifice, unity, and a clear, shared vision.
Uganda is not short on opposition parties. It is short on coherent opposition. It is not lacking in brave individuals. It is lacking in collective discipline. Until those within the opposition realize that their greatest enemy may no longer be the regime but themselves, they will keep losing battles they never even started fighting properly.
The final tragedy would be that by 2026, it is not Museveni who defeats the opposition, but the opposition that defeats itself.
And if that happens, Ugandans may not only lose hope in the opposition—they may lose hope in change altogether.
Odeke Bazel is a political commentator, researcher, and social worker with a focus on governance and youth civic engagement.
