A 143-page amendment to Uganda’s military law has triggered national concern as Parliament prepares to debate the UPDF (Amendment) Bill, 2025, a controversial proposal that critics warn could revive the military’s power to try civilians—just months after the Supreme Court ruled such actions unconstitutional.
Tabled by Defence Minister Jacob Oboth Oboth, the bill seeks to overhaul the Uganda Peoples’ Defence Forces Act.
But hidden beneath its structural reforms is Clause 30, which introduces Section 117A—a clause many fear reopens the door for military courts to prosecute civilians.
According to legal experts, this clause dangerously expands who can be “subject to military law.” It includes not just active soldiers, but:
- Spouses, children, and household members accompanying soldiers in active service
- Anyone in possession of UPDF property, including items like uniforms or military-grade equipment
- Civilians found with licensed firearms or materials like ammonium nitrate
- People accused of aiding military personnel in crimes like treason or robbery
- And, bizarrely, individuals wearing clothing resembling military gear—such as Kaunda suits in “specific” colours
Human rights lawyer Nicholas Opiyo minced no words.
“The bill restates outdated laws and disguises them as reforms. It’s not compliance; it’s an evasion of the Supreme Court’s ruling,” he said.
Opiyo’s concerns are rooted in the court’s January 2025 decision that declared the trial of civilians in military courts unlawful, citing constitutional breaches of the right to fair, impartial hearings.
The judgment halted ongoing court martial cases against civilians, including high-profile political detainees.
Among those once tried by military court is singer-activist Nubian Li, who was arrested in 2019.
Speaking from a studio, he said, “Even if you appoint High Court judges to the Court Martial, it will still serve power, not justice.”
Clause 117A’s broad language also worries constitutional lawyers.
“We’ve seen ‘persons subject to military law’ misused before,” said lawyer Sarah Nakato. “This could become a legal trapdoor for prosecuting dissenters.”
In response, NRM legal director Enoch Barata defended the bill, calling it a “new law with higher standards,” including provisions for judicial appointments through the Judicial Service Commission.
Yet even these additions, critics argue, don’t go far enough to shield civilians from military overreach.
MP Medard Lubega Ssegona didn’t mince words.
“This is not a simple amendment. It’s a constitutional matter. You can’t sneak this past us. If they want military discipline, fine—but let civilians face civilian courts.”
Civil society groups are already mobilizing.
David Okello, coordinator for a national rights coalition, said, “We won in court, and we won’t let Parliament undo that through the back door.”
Despite repeated assurances from Defence Ministry insiders that the bill’s intention is to “strengthen internal military justice,” the absence of clear exclusions for civilians has only heightened public skepticism.
As Parliament returns from recess, insiders report that MPs have received “quiet reminders” to attend, underscoring the bill’s political sensitivity. The UPDF Amendment Bill is third on the order paper, but first on the public’s mind.
This legislation is not just about military justice. It is a test of Uganda’s commitment to constitutionalism, civilian oversight, and the rule of law.
The battle over who belongs in military courts is far from over—and the outcome of this week’s debate could shape Uganda’s legal landscape for years to come.
