By. Isaac Christopher Lubogo
There comes a moment in a nation’s political evolution where the elections stop being contests of ideas and become competitions of noise. Uganda has reached that moment. What we are witnessing today is not a democratic contest; it is a tragic national circus where two men — the Great Entertainer and the Great Tactician — stand at opposite ends of a rope, pulling a fatigued nation in opposite directions but moving it nowhere.
One shouts “Alooo!”
The other chants “When I was in the bush…”
Both are loud.
Neither is leading.
The country is trapped in a political acoustics chamber where echo has replaced ideology, performance has replaced policy, and memory has replaced vision.
We are in an election cycle without a national agenda — a political season where the microphone is louder than the manifesto.
Let us dissect this tragedy with surgical precision.
I. The Entertainment Republic: When The Stage Becomes The State
Robert Kyagulanyi, known to his millions as Bobi Wine, is arguably the most electrifying political mobiliser of his generation. His charisma is undeniable. His crowds are oceanic. His chants of “Alooo!” create an emotional vibration that could topple mountains.
But behind the emotion lies a void.
When policy questions arise — agriculture, industrialisation, monetary policy, regional trade, energy transition, land reforms, state capacity, national security — the stage suddenly becomes too quiet. The loudness evaporates.
An entire nation cannot be governed on the strength of a greeting.
A country is not a concert.
A presidency is not a performance.
A campaign rally is not a music festival.
The tragedy is not that Bobi Wine does not have ideas — it is that he has never been forced to present them, because the political marketplace has been reduced to a theatre of applause rather than a laboratory of solutions.
What we are calling “support” is not citizenship; it is fan culture.
A nation following a man because he says “Alooo” is not a nation engaging democracy. It is a nation seeking entertainment in the midst of economic decay.
II. The Architect Of Forever: When History Becomes a Manifesto
Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, the Great Tactician, the master palm-reader of political psychology, has perfected the art of turning yesterday into tomorrow’s campaign message.
For 40 years, his strongest argument has been:
“If it was not for me and the bush, you would not have peace.”
But peace has now grown grey hair.
It is no longer a justification; it is a historical fact.
Imagine a mechanic who says, decade after decade:
“I repaired your car in 1986 — therefore, keep paying me in 2025.”
Museveni’s campaign speeches have become an annual pilgrimage to the battlefield of 1980–1986, as though a nation of 48 million people must permanently live in the museum of his memories. He speaks of:
the bush war
the collapse of the past regimes
the need to protect the gains
the threats waiting to swallow the nation if he leaves
These are not policies; they are psychological locks.
Uganda’s greatest tragedy is that the man who once had the sharpest revolutionary mind in East Africa now campaigns like a man trapped in his own autobiography.
The bush is not a development plan.
Legacy is not a budget framework.
Longevity is not leadership.
III. The Nation Between A Shout and A Story
Uganda’s election has become a rope with two knots:
Alooo → Emotion without structure
Bush war → Structure without evolution
Both poles are inadequate.
The citizen stands in the middle holding a rope that is burning from both ends. And yet, we continue cheering, tweeting, dancing, insulting each other, and pretending this is a political vision.
It is not.
It is a national paralysis.
In this election season:
No one is discussing industrialisation zones
No one is discussing Uganda’s demographic bomb
No one is discussing oil governance
No one is discussing debt distress
No one is discussing education collapse
No one is discussing currency stability
No one is discussing AI, digital transition, or climate resilience
We are choosing between a performer and a historian, both of whom have turned the nation into a theatre of applause and nostalgia.
IV. The Culture Of Non-Agenda Campaigns: A Country In Free Fall
When campaigns have no agenda, four tragedies follow:
1. The death of policy thinking
No candidate is forced to articulate:
pathways to economic transformation
solutions to youth unemployment
models of local investment
restructuring of government and public service
So the country votes for vibes, not vision.
2. The rise of populism
Populism thrives in the absence of policy.
That is why we now evaluate leaders based on their ability to excite crowds, not the competence of their ideas.
3. The infantilisation of citizens
Citizens begin behaving like spectators at a football match — shouting, cheering, chanting — forgetting they are the employers of these politicians.
4. The institutional stagnation
Uganda’s future becomes the hostage of personalities instead of systems.
As a result, the country is trapped in a permanent present tense — no movement forward, no return backwards, just an endless emotional loop.
V. The Disturbing Question We Must Finally Ask
Why does Uganda tolerate agenda-less campaigns?
Because we have become a nation addicted to drama. The people do not demand depth. The leaders do not offer substance. And the state does not insist on accountability.
We have allowed political competition to become:
a singing contest
a nostalgia concert
a charisma parade
a memory festival
Meanwhile, poverty deepens.
Debt increases.
The shilling weakens.
Youth unemployment explodes.
Healthcare collapses.
Education decays.
Local industry suffocates.
Families drown in survival.
But the rallies remain full.
A hungry nation clapping for empty slogans is the saddest theatre on earth.
VI. Conclusion: Uganda Is Voting Between Yesterday and No Plan
If Uganda votes Museveni, it is voting for yesterday’s liberation.
If Uganda votes Bobi Wine, it is voting for today’s excitement.
But who is offering a plan for:
tomorrow’s economy?
tomorrow’s schools?
tomorrow’s technology?
tomorrow’s environment?
tomorrow’s governance?
tomorrow’s citizens?
This election is not a choice between two candidates.
It is a referendum on whether Uganda still remembers how to think.
If we continue like this, the nation will remain suspended in a political void — a country trapped between applause and nostalgia, condemned to suffer while leaders entertain and reminisce.
Uganda does not need a performer.
Uganda does not need a historian.
Uganda needs a leader.
Until then, the rope will continue to burn.
And so will the nation.
Disclaimer:
The views expressed in this commentary are solely those of the author and do not in anyway reflect the opinions or editorial policy of Africa Publicity
