Why Otafiire refuses to stay silent

In a political culture where cabinet ministers often read from the same script, Maj. Gen (Rtd) Kahinda Otafiire has carved out a distinct role: the government insider who refuses to stay quiet.

His voice, blunt and unvarnished, has unsettled colleagues in the ruling National Resistance Movement (NRM) and won him a reputation as one of the few senior officials willing to confront uncomfortable truths. Otafiire, the minister of Internal Affairs, is no newcomer to controversy.

A veteran of Uganda’s liberation war that swept the NRM into power nearly four decades ago, he has served as minister, legislator and party stalwart. Yet his recent public interventions, on detention without trial, police brutality, corruption and generational change in politics, are more than one man’s outbursts.

They speak to a deeper unease within the system he helped build. At the Sam Kalega Njuba Memorial Lecture last week, Otafiire turned his focus on the prolonged detention of opposition leader and fellow liberation comrade Dr Kizza Besigye, who has been held for more than eight months on treason charges.

The case, he argued, is a betrayal of Uganda’s own Constitution.

“Besigye should be tried in court. Being condemned or absolved is a right,” he told the audience, citing Article 28, which guarantees a fair and timely trial.

Then came the warning that drew the room to silence: “I was here during Obote I and Idi Amin’s regimes, and I can tell you, some of the things happening today are simply unacceptable.”

In a country still haunted by memories of extrajudicial killings and disappearances, his words struck a raw nerve. Otafiire was effectively telling the government he serves that it risks repeating the very abuses it once fought to end.

His candor has not stopped there. In March, after a by-election in Kawempe North turned violent, with police beating journalists and opposition supporters, Otafiire chastised security forces: “Don’t commit crime in the name of law enforcement.”

In parliament, he went further, apologizing for the killing of six people in Kololo, reportedly executed while unarmed. “Under no circumstance should a Ugandan be executed when he is handcuffed or unarmed,” he said.

Few ministers would dare make such an admission on the parliamentary floor. These comments are more than soundbites. They highlight a widening gap between the actions of Uganda’s security forces and the democratic principles enshrined in law.

By calling it out, Otafiire has positioned himself as a rare internal critic, one who has the stature and history to be heard.

TAKING AIM AT CORRUPTION

Otafiire has also turned his fire on corruption and complacency within the NRM itself. At Kampala International University’s graduation ceremony last year, he challenged Uganda’s youth to reject the failures of their leaders: “Stand up and tell leaders that enough is enough.”

He has repeatedly warned that corruption within the ruling party is eating away at the country’s future, undermining development and eroding public trust. Such candor is rare in a system where loyalty to the party line often trumps accountability.

Despite his sharp critiques, Otafiire has not broken ranks with the NRM or President Yoweri Museveni. He remains loyal to the movement’s founding ideology and insists the party, not external voices, will decide when Museveni should retire.

When pressed on the political ambitions of Museveni’s son, Gen Muhoozi Kainerugaba, Otafiire was careful but clear: Muhoozi has every right to compete, but only through a fair democratic process.

This balancing act, criticizing excesses while staying loyal to the party, may explain how Otafiire has managed to remain in cabinet for so long. Yet it also underscores the contradictions of a system where calls for reform often collide with entrenched loyalty to the status quo.

WHAT HIS DISSENT SIGNALS

For Kampala’s Lord Mayor Erias Lukwago, Otafiire’s discontent is more than personal.

“When someone of Otafiire’s stature speaks out, it underscores the gravity of Uganda’s political challenges,” Lukwago said.

Political analyst Dellon Abaho agrees, noting that Otafiire’s dissent should serve as a wake-up call: “True leadership demands listening to the uncomfortable voices, especially those from within.”

In his view, silencing such voices would only weaken Uganda’s already fragile democracy. As Uganda edges toward the 2026 general elections, Otafiire’s interventions cut to the heart of the country’s political tension: will the state respond to dissent with reform or repression?

His words are a reminder that democracy does not depend only on opposition leaders and civil society activists. It also depends on insiders willing to risk the wrath of their peers. For now, Otafiire continues to walk that narrow line—loyal to his party, but unwilling to stay silent in the face of injustice.

In a government where silence has often been the safer path, his voice is both disruptive and necessary. Whether it sparks genuine reform or fades into political noise may say as much about Uganda’s future as it does about Otafiire himself.

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