On a quiet, dusty afternoon in Uganda, a peculiar political scene unfolded—one that, depending on whom you ask, was either a moment of honour or a stark symbol of stagnation.
Second Deputy Prime Minister Moses Ali, 86, was officially nominated to contest in the just-concluded NRM primaries while seated comfortably inside his car. NRM Electoral Commission chairperson Dr Tanga Odoi approached the window, exchanged a few words and the nomination was done. Uganda’s longest-serving political survivor was back in the ring.
A scene fit for satire? Perhaps. But also deeply instructive.
You see, General Moses Ali (rtd) is no stranger to power. This is a man whose service to Uganda spans over six decades—through Amin’s iron-fisted regime, Obote’s turmoil and into the Museveni era. He is not just a politician; he is history on legs or, in this case, wheels. Since returning to Parliament in 2011 after losing his seat in Adjumani in 2006, the General has held firm: rarely ruffled, often invisible but always present.
But his car-window nomination has stirred a storm of questions online and in tea stalls across the country. Some call it a practical concession to age. Others whisper what many fear to voice aloud: Is this really the best we can do in 2025?
And what does it say about Uganda’s future when leadership remains tightly gripped by octogenarians, while our youthful population watches from the sidelines?
This is not about disrespecting elders. Uganda is built on the backs of those who came before us. Moses Ali is a decorated veteran. His service—however one chooses to interpret it—is marked by resilience. But even the sun must set, and even the wisest fisherman knows when to pass the oars.
In a high-tech, high-speed world, Uganda finds itself caught in a political traffic jam, crawling forward while others fly past in electric cars. We speak of digital economies, green revolutions and youth-led innovation. But how can we compete globally if leadership continues to operate from the backseat—quite literally?
We cannot build a digital Uganda with analogue leadership. We cannot chant “youth empowerment” while blocking every route to power with history’s shadows.
Uganda, where over 75% (pdf) of the population is under 30, should not be watching the same leaders reappear like reruns of a 1970s television drama. We are being led by men who witnessed Uganda’s independence not as children, but as adults. That should concern anyone with eyes fixed on the future.
The irony is not lost on us: a nomination through a rolled-down window has become a window into Uganda’s wider dilemma. A dilemma of succession. Of renewal. Of generational trust.
Meanwhile, other big names are also re-entering the fray. The headlines read like a national reunion rather than a general election.
We must ask: is politics in Uganda a calling or a lifelong entitlement? When does leadership evolve from honourable service into habitual self-preservation? Is it truly about serving the people or about never letting go of the mic?
There are young leaders in this country. Talented, educated and connected to the modern struggles of everyday Ugandans. But the corridors of power remain heavily guarded—by age, by money and by nostalgia.
And so we return to the car. The quiet nod. The confirmation at the window.
It may have been a simple act of convenience, but to many, it looked like the final metaphor of a generation that no longer needs to stand to be counted.
Uganda needs renewal. Not through empty slogans or youth tokenism, but through a deliberate, bold handover of trust.
We cannot build a digital Uganda with analogue leadership. We cannot chant “youth empowerment” while blocking every route to power with history’s shadows.
General Moses Ali has every right to contest. That is democracy. But so do millions of Ugandans who were not alive during Amin’s reign. The question is: will they be allowed more than just a vote?
As we approach the 2026 general elections, let us look beyond the personalities. Let us focus on the patterns. Because sometimes the most powerful message does not arrive on a podium. Sometimes it rolls down a window and whispers, “Nothing has changed.”
Should Uganda open the door to new leadership or roll down the window again?
The choice is ours!
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