When I was growing up, debate at home—but mostly at school—was a must. We would have a school parliament to mimic the real house, complete with a motion, a speaker and an active house of students. You could choose to support or oppose the motion, and whichever side won, nothing terrible followed.
It was exhilarating. Ideas battled ideas. Words carried weight, not whips. I thought this was preparing us for adulthood—a future where logic and reasoning would triumph over fists and fear.
I grew up only to realise that was not preparation; it was fiction.
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In today’s East Africa, particularly Uganda, the idea of a “debating society” feels like a cruel joke. The mere act of expressing dissent—online, in a public square or even at a private gathering—can invite interrogation, illegal detention or, worse, torture. The baton, not the ballot, is fast becoming the tool of governance. And increasingly, the line between law enforcement and thuggery is smudged.
Uganda’s recent past is littered with stories that echo this horror. The case of novelist Kakwenza Rukirabashaija stands out. Arrested in 2021 for tweets deemed insulting to army chief General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, he was reportedly beaten up, subjected to electric shocks and denied access to his lawyers and family. His crime? Words. His weapon? A smartphone. His punishment? Scars he now wears for life.
But Kakwenza’s case was not isolated—it was merely high profile. Hundreds of young Ugandans, particularly supporters of opposition figure Bobi Wine, have disappeared, only to reappear weeks or months later with visible signs of torture.
The security apparatus calls them “suspects”. The public calls them “victims.” The government calls it “law enforcement.” Human rights groups call it what it is: state-sponsored terror.
And this is not exclusive to Uganda. In Rwanda, the Kagame government continues to be accused of repressing dissent through secret detentions and alleged torture of critics. Kenya, despite its progressive 2010 Constitution, struggles with rogue police units notorious for extrajudicial killings and torture, especially in informal settlements.
It begins with fear. Governments afraid of losing power often conflate dissent with rebellion. Institutions that should serve people morph into fortresses of control. Surveillance is increasingly justified in the name of national security. Police forces evolve into militia-style enforcers of the regime’s will. And over time, the social contract collapses—not with a bang, but with the silent cries of those tortured in dark, soundproof rooms
Tanzania, under John Pombe Magufuli, saw a drastic crackdown on media and the opposition. While there has been some hope under President Samia Suluhu, her government’s recent actions have raised serious concerns about whether genuine political reforms and freedom of expression are truly being prioritised.
A pertinent question is: How did we get here?
It begins with fear. Governments afraid of losing power often conflate dissent with rebellion. Institutions that should serve people morph into fortresses of control. Surveillance is increasingly justified in the name of national security. Police forces evolve into militia-style enforcers of the regime’s will. And over time, the social contract collapses—not with a bang, but with the silent cries of those tortured in dark, soundproof rooms.
What is most heartbreaking is how it contradicts the values we were taught. Schools once championed debate, critical thinking and the courage to question. Education painted a picture of democracy as a system where disagreement was healthy, even necessary. But what happens when those who once debated motions in school are now silenced with teargas and truncheons?
The irony is painful.
But the silence around it is deadlier.
According to the Uganda Human Rights Commission’s 2023 report (pdf), complaints of torture rose sharply, with security forces topping the list of perpetrators. In 2022 alone, over 900 complaints of torture were filed—but how many convictions followed? How many apologies were issued? How many victims get compensation? The numbers are as hollow as the justice system’s promises.
So, where do we go from here?
We need a political culture shift. Leadership that equates criticism with treason is not leadership—it is tyranny dressed in a suit. East Africa deserves leaders who listen, not lash.
Let us remember those school debates. They were not just games. They were the blueprint for a better society—one where voices, not violence, shaped the future.
It is time to reclaim that vision. Torture has no place in our homes, our prisons or our politics. A nation silencing its own people is a nation silencing its progress. Fear may control, but it never builds. Real power listens, learns and grows.
We were taught better. We deserve better. And we must demand better.
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