Kizza Besigye, easily the most prominent Ugandan opposition leader in half a century, has been imprisoned on charges of treason and related offences.
He was abducted in Nairobi, Kenya, on November 16, 2024, while attending a book launch by opposition politician Martha Karua, and was subsequently taken to Uganda.
There, he faced a military court on November 20, 2024, accused of illegal possession of firearms and soliciting military and logistical support from various countries, including Switzerland, Greece, and Kenya, to undermine Uganda’s national security and overthrow President Yoweri Museveni’s government.
Following a landmark Supreme Court ruling on January 31, 2025, which declared the trial of civilians in military courts unconstitutional, Besigye’s case was transferred to a civilian court.
On February 21, 2025, he was formally charged with treason in Kampala’s Nakawa Magistrate Court, a crime that carries the death penalty in Uganda.
The prosecution alleges that he plotted to forcibly remove Museveni, who’s been in power since 1986, by organising meetings abroad to gather military, financial, and logistical support.
Besigye’s detention has been controversial. He went on a hunger strike, and his gaunt appearance shocked the country. After his case moved to a civilian court, he ended the strike.
His wife, Winnie Byanyima, Executive Director of UNAIDS and a United Nations Under-Secretary-General, along with local and international human rights organisations, condemned the charges as politically motivated and a violation of international human rights law, particularly given his abduction.
Museveni’s political and military officials claim Besigye “wanted to kill” the president, a charge his supporters dismiss as a ruse to keep him locked away indefinitely.
Even if some of the allegations were true, the state’s relentless pursuit of him is unprecedented. Some security officials and ruling party loyalists have openly called for Besigye to be lynched.
Meanwhile, Museveni convened his ruling National Resistance Movement’s parliamentary caucus, which swiftly agreed to rewrite military court regulations to bypass the Supreme Court ruling and keep trying civilians in military tribunals.
Over the years, Museveni, a man with a pragmatic yet ruthless approach to power, has forgiven former rebels and rewarded them with government positions.
Compared to others who have sought to overthrow him, Besigye is not even in the top five. His persecution, therefore, must stem from something deeper.
A former ally and Museveni’s physician during their Bush war, Besigye has opposed the president for decades, running against him in four elections and consistently alleging electoral fraud.
He has been arrested or detained at roadblocks over 300 times in 24 years, and his home has frequently been under de facto house arrest. Some claim he is the most arrested politician in the world.
Extreme as Besigye’s woes may seem, they fit a long-standing Ugandan political script. At the beginning of their rule, while consolidating power, and towards the end, when their grip weakens, regimes have carried out high-profile arrests—or even assassinations—of real and perceived opponents.
In 1966, Milton Obote’s government stunned the country by arresting several opposition legislators and ministers. A year before his overthrow by General Idi Amin, Deputy Army Commander Brigadier Pierino Okoya and his wife were assassinated in 1970.
If the 1966 arrests had a chilling effect, Okoya’s murder froze the nation with fear. Such incidents function as political spectacles, distracting the public for months, even years.
Obote’s actions paled in comparison to Amin’s. After seizing power, Amin embarked on a reign of terror, disappearing, arresting, and murdering hundreds of prominent figures.
On September 25, 1972, Benedicto Kiwanuka, Uganda’s first Black Chief Justice and former prime minister, was dragged from his High Court chambers in Kampala, tortured, and executed at the State Lodge. Days later, on October 1, 1972, Makerere University Vice-Chancellor Frank Kalimuzo was abducted and killed.
Then, on February 17, 1977, Amin’s agents struck again, murdering Anglican Archbishop Janani Luwum, Interior Minister Charles Oboth-Ofumbi, and Land Minister Erinayo Wilson Oryema—who had also been Uganda’s first African Inspector General of Police—all in a single sweep.
Museveni’s rule, beginning in 1986, followed the same playbook. On March 9, 1987, Andrew Kayiira, a former rebel ally and Energy Minister, was gunned down at home by unknown assailants.
His murder ignited a political storm in the Buganda region that Museveni’s young government struggled to contain. The charges levelled against Kayiira and other victims over the years bear an eerie resemblance to those now facing Besigye. The fear and uncertainty generated by such arrests and killings remain potent tools of control.
The shock and fear Besigye’s detention has triggered are part of this long tradition. But this time, the situation is more complex. Museveni has ruled for nearly 40 years, and for 24 of them, Besigye has been a persistent thorn in his side. As Museveni, now nearing 81, eyes a ninth term (two unelected), the weight of his legacy looms larger than ever.
Besigye casts the largest shadow on it. And to complicate matters, unlike all his other rivals, Besigye is also rivalling him in an unspoken parochial contest.
Being from western Uganda like Museveni, there is also the minor title of greatest local son of the soil up for grabs. Which is why one of the greatest surprises is that Besigye is still alive.
But with bloodthirsty hardline voices growing louder and Museveni’s silence stretching longer, he may yet be playing chess in the great beyond with Luwum, Kayiira, Kiwanuka, and Okoya.
Charles Onyango-Obbo is a journalist, writer, and curator of the «Wall of Great Africans. » X (Twitter): @cobbo3
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