The erosion of Uganda’s democratization experiment may be approaching the point of no return. The rulers’ overt contempt for democracy is shared by their subjects. While the rulers employ the state’s instruments of coercion, violence and vote tally manipulation, their subjects are perfect enablers of the anti-democratic abuse that is inflicted on them. This shared dance is exemplified by the trading of votes that is a major symptom and catalyst of Uganda’s failed democratization experiment.
What began as a promising transition from authoritarian rule exactly forty years ago this week, is now an obscene supermarket for the exchange of money, goods, and services for votes. Many have correctly emphasized the role of suppression of political opponents through physical violence, incarceration, and restricted access to political campaigns. Others correctly identify the role of regional and international powers as enablers of Uganda’s political crisis.
All that is true, of course. However, my focus today is on voter bribery in the hollowing out of democratic institutions, which has created a vicious cycle that perpetuates authoritarian governance while maintaining a democratic façade.
Vote buying in Uganda operates through sophisticated and multi-layered systems. At the most visible level, candidates and their agents distribute cash directly to voters, particularly in the days and hours before polling. These payments typically range from a few thousand to tens of thousands of Ugandan shillings, modest sums that nonetheless hold significant value in a country where many live in poverty. Nearly all candidates, regardless of party, engage in this immoral anti-democratic behaviour.
Beyond direct cash payments, vote buying takes more subtle forms. Politicians distribute so-called essential goods such as sugar, salt, soap, and cooking oil. They pay school fees for voters' children, provide building materials for homes and churches, and offer agricultural inputs like seeds and fertilizers. Waragi and other potent alcoholic beverages are vote winners in Kigyezi and many other regions. These material exchanges create networks of obligation and dependency that extend far beyond election day.
The ruling party has systematically weaponized state resources for electoral advantage. Government programs ostensibly designed for poverty alleviation have become vehicles for political patronage. The distribution of funds through schemes like the Parish Development Model or youth livelihood programs often correlates suspiciously with electoral calendars and favours areas supporting the incumbent.
Political culture also plays a role. Many Ugandans have come to view elections as opportunities for extracting resources from politicians rather than mechanisms for holding leaders accountable. This transactional view of politics reflects rational adaptation to a system where elected officials rarely deliver on campaign promises and where voters have limited means to punish poor performance. If politicians are going to steal once in office anyway, the logic goes, voters might as well get something tangible during campaigns.
Widespread poverty creates vulnerability to inducements that would seem trivial in wealthier societies. When families struggle to afford necessities, even small payments can influence voting decisions, particularly when voters perceive little meaningful difference between candidates or doubt that electoral outcomes will substantially improve their lives. The chairman of a Local Council in Mparo, Kigyezi, told me that he did not expect any service from his newly elected MPs. “They gave me money and T-shirts, and I supported them to go and get their riches and fame,” he said with a smile. I know him to be a very intelligent man.
The weakness of democratic institutions enables vote buying to occur with impunity. Uganda’s Electoral Commission is not independent. Despite its claims of neutrality, its track record suggests otherwise. Law enforcement selectively prosecutes electoral violations, targeting opposition figures while ignoring similar or worse violations by ruling party candidates. The judiciary, increasingly packed with ruling party loyalists, rarely delivers meaningful accountability for electoral fraud.
The opposition's own weaknesses paradoxically enable vote buying to thrive. Fragmented, under-resourced, and frequently repressed, opposition parties struggle to build sustained grassroots organizations that could compete with ruling party patronage networks. Many opposition politicians engage in vote buying themselves, further normalizing the practice and undermining any moral high ground from which to challenge it. A few opposition party leaders have reportedly been “bought” by the rulers.
Does this commercialization of politics matter? Vote buying corrodes democracy's essential functions in multiple ways. Most fundamentally, it distorts the link between citizen preferences and electoral outcomes. When votes can be purchased, elections no longer reflect the public will. This undermines the core democratic principle that governments derive legitimacy from the consent of the governed. If consent can be bought, it ceases to be meaningful.
The practice also warps political incentives and accountability. Politicians who buy their way into office focus on recouping their electoral investments and accumulating resources for the next campaign rather than on effective governance. One successful parliamentary candidate in Kigyezi is reported to have spent one billion shillings (about USD 275,000) on their campaign. I understand that others spent more than that.
Corruption becomes not merely an unfortunate side effect but a necessary component of the political system. Officials who might prefer to govern honestly find themselves trapped in a system that demands corruption to maintain power.
Vote buying entrenches inequality and diverts resources from productive uses. The vast sums spent on buying votes could fund development projects, improve public services, or stimulate economic growth. Instead, they perpetuate cycles of dependency and clientelism. Those with access to state resources or wealth can buy political power, which they then use to further enrich themselves, creating a self-reinforcing kleptocratic plutocracy disguised as democracy.
The practice degrades civic culture and citizenship. When citizens are reduced to selling their votes, the concept of the citizen as an autonomous political actor with rights and responsibilities gives way to that of the voter as client or dependent. Political participation becomes transactional rather than based on principle, ideology, or collective interest. This fundamentally changes how people relate to politics and to each other as members of a political community. Uganda has very few leaders and citizens. It is dominated by rulers that despise and exploit their millions of subjects.
Breaking the cycle of vote buying and democratization collapse in Uganda may well be beyond the capacity of the current rulers of the land. It is a herculean task that, I am afraid, must await a new crop of leaders whose words and actions are in concert. One such leader is Gregory Mugisha Muntu, who was the candidate of the National Alliance for Transformation. Many Ugandans have told me that he was the best candidate for the presidency. Those same Ugandans told me that they did not vote for him. “He is too good for this country,” they said. They probably meant it.
© Muniini K. Mulera