What if Formation of New Political Parties Is Just Another Way to Say We’ve Run Out of Ideas?

Uganda, once the land of a few towering political giants, has now become a breeding ground for what can only be described as a political zoo, a place where every aggrieved ego, every expelled secretary general, and every ambitious activist finds solace in forming a new party. Once upon a time, political parties were engines of ideology. Today, however, one observes a quiet but worrying ideological fatigue among many political parties. It is not the multiplicity of parties that signals trouble, but the multiplication without meaningful differentiation. While democracy encourages pluralism, the essence of a political party lies not in its legal registration, but in what it stands for. Increasingly, the lines between parties are becoming blurred, not because of convergence of vision, but due to absence of ideological depth.

This is not a critique of intentions indeed, most parties begin with noble aspirations but rather a sober observation of how personality, expediency, and electoral arithmetic have begun to eclipse principle, vision, and policy discourse. Where the Bataka once spoke of land, and the UPC of social justice, today many parties speak in generalities “change,” “freedom,” “development,” “removal of a dictator” without clear frameworks on how to actualize them. Moreover, the historical character of parties as vehicles of mass mobilization and political education has been dulled. Rallies are held, manifestos are issued, and statements are made but the intellectual grounding, the internal democracy, and the ideological training that once defined parties like DP and UPC are now the exception, not the rule.

This drift has consequences. It leaves citizens disengaged, voters confused, and institutions hollowed. The role of parties as incubators of leadership, builders of consensus, and defenders of constitutional values becomes weakened. Yet, this is not irreversible. The recent mushrooming of political parties in Uganda is often mistaken for democratic vibrancy. Yet beneath this surface lies not the strength of pluralism, but the symptom of a deeper malaise a political system in quiet collapse, and a political class gasping for coherence.

According to Edmund Burke, a political party is a body of people united to promote the national interest based on shared principles. Uganda’s earliest true political party was the Bataka Party, founded in 1946 by Baganda intellectuals. It united peasants, workers, and landlords against colonial rule. The party demanded fair cash crop pricing, reduced taxes, and an elective Lukiiko. It strongly opposed the British-proposed East African Federation. Their resistance stemmed from a desire to protect the Kabaka’s status and avoid domination by Kenyan settlers.

In 1948, I.K. Musazi founded the Uganda African Farmers’ Union to advocate for African farmers’ rights. The Union opposed crop price controls and demanded local participation in the ginnery industry. British radicals supported its cause. In the 1949 riots, both the Union and the Bataka Party were banned for their alleged roles. Musazi revived the Union as the Federation of Partnerships of Uganda African Farmers. By 1952, it had transformed into the Uganda National Congress.

Unlike earlier movements, the Uganda National Congress aimed for full independence, with the slogan “self-government now.” In 1953, Buganda faced a major crisis over the British proposal for an East African Federation. The Baganda, led by the Kabaka, strongly opposed it and refused to join the Legislative Council. The Governor’s proposed compromise was rejected by the Kabaka. In November 1953, the British withdrew recognition and deported him to England. His exile sparked outrage and united political movements in demanding his return.

Internal divisions soon emerged in Congress between moderates and radicals. In 1955, right-wing members formed the short-lived Progressive Party, aligned with Buganda interests. Unlike Congress, it lacked national appeal and quickly faded. Meanwhile, Roman Catholic leaders saw the need for their own political voice. In 1954, they founded the Democratic Party (DP) to counter Protestant-led movements. DP aimed to represent Catholic interests on Uganda’s growing political stage.

Under the 1957 Elections Ordinance, most areas outside Buganda held direct elections in 1958. Ankole and Bugisu rejected the system; their representatives were appointed instead. Buganda also opposed direct elections for political reasons. The Uganda National Congress won five seats, DP got one, and the rest were independents. After the elections, a new party the Uganda People’s Union was formed. It drew support from independents and Congress members, becoming the largest group in the Legislative Council.

The Uganda National Congress faced frequent splits due to policy clashes and personality cults. In 1959, Milton Obote led a major split, seeing independence as only the beginning, not the end. Obote, discontented with the old guard, left with several members to form the Uganda People’s Union. Soon after, talks began to reunite the factions. In 1960, the Uganda People’s Union and National Congress merged under Obote’s leadership. The new party was named the Uganda People’s Congress (UPC), marking the end of the original Congress.

As Uganda approached independence, Buganda’s leaders feared losing their kingdom’s autonomy. In response to rising nationalism, they sought a political vehicle to defend Buganda’s interests. In 1961, royalists and traditionalists formed the Kabaka Yekka Party, meaning “The King Only.” KY was rooted in loyalty to the Kabaka and aimed to preserve Buganda’s cultural and political dominance. It strongly opposed parties like DP and UPC, which pushed for national unity over regional identity. The party quickly gained influence within Buganda and became a key political force in the early 1960s.

The clarity of purpose that once defined party formation has since faded. What follows is a sobering reflection on how today’s political parties have abandoned vision for mere visibility.

The proliferation is not a sign of ideological birth it is the scattering of ideological ashes. At the heart of this drift lies a forgotten truth: if you are right but cannot take people with you, you might as well be wrong. Political virtue, however noble, is sterile if it remains confined to the self. The power of an idea is not in the correctness of its premise, but in its resonance with the people. Uganda’s political elite many well-meaning and intellectually rigorous have too often failed to translate rightness into relevance. The consequence is alienation, disconnection, and fragmentation.

This failure has birthed a familiar pattern: the aggrieved break off, form a new party, claim the moral high ground, and often vanish into political fog. Yet, as history has shown, there are moments when, convinced as you are that you are right, the higher wisdom lies not in insisting, but in stepping aside waiting patiently until time vindicates you. This patience is rare in our politics. Our political space is not built to reward restraint; it rewards visibility and survival. Hence the multiplication of parties without the multiplication of purpose.

The disintegration of what we once called the liberation struggle logic has only worsened this. That logic that the people are the movement, and the movement is the people once infused political organizations with authenticity. Their interests were indistinguishable from the people’s suffering, hope, and agency. Today, that logic has collapsed. Movements have become brands. Parties have become personal properties. And leaders have become merchants of ambition.

The formation of new political parties is therefore a symptom of decline at two levels: first, the institutional decay of the NRM, and second and perhaps more urgently the degeneration of Uganda’s entire political culture. It is a misdiagnosis to believe that our dysfunction stems solely from the ruling party. We are governed not just by a regime in decline, but by a political class collectively bankrupt of ideological leadership. There is a crisis of thought, a vacuum of intellectual courage and moral clarity. Political competition has turned into a performance of ego and identity. We are no longer debating ideas; we are defending loyalties. The conflicts that define our national discourse are not born of principle, but of separation and separation is a product of attachment.

We have become attached to names NRM, FDC, DP, NUP, ANT etc as though they were divine entities. We speak of “us” and “them” with religious zeal. Yet these are not intrinsic realities; they are constructs of the mind, built by ego and sustained by memory. There is, in fact, no such thing as NRM or NUP etc, there are only human beings with hopes, fears, and contradictions. But our emotional and ideological attachment has turned parties into identities, and these identities into weapons. Thus, we inflict pain on each other politically, socially, and sometimes even physically not in pursuit of a better Uganda, but in defense of these imagined boundaries called political parties.

This separation is not merely abstract. It is manufactured and exploited by what we have come to know as the deep state, a shadowy convergence of political opportunists, criminal syndicates, rogue intelligence actors, and corrupt business elites. The deep state is not a conspiracy; it is a survival mechanism for those who benefit from chaos. It thrives when public institutions are weak, when parties are disunited, and when citizens are distracted. In Uganda, the deep state does not serve the nation; it serves the convergence of personal gain. Its projects, national and transnational compete not in service of the people, but in factional struggles for access to state coffers. Since the dominance of the NRM post-1986, these competitions have often masqueraded as intra-party conflicts, while in reality, they are turf wars between rival syndicates embedded within and beyond the state. And thus, political parties are no longer ideological homes; they are battlefronts in a hidden war for loot.

In such a context, the mushrooming of new political parties is not surprising, it is inevitable. Each party becomes a response to betrayal, a bid for relevance, or a refuge from marginalization. But with each new formation, we lose coherence. We lose the national conversation. And we lose the unifying ideals that once defined the political imagination of the Bataka, the Uganda National Congress, and the early DP and UPC.

And so, we must ask: What if the architecture of governance is no longer oriented towards the people, but towards the sustenance of a political class that can no longer even sustain its own cohesion? We are at a crossroads. The future does not demand more political parties it demands more political clarity, more intellectual courage, and a radical rethinking of what it means to lead. Until we rediscover that the power of an idea lies not in being right, but in taking people with us, we shall continue to wander through a crowded, noisy, and directionless political jungle many parties, but no movement; many leaders, but no leadership.