Now that Bobi Wine is not there, who will hold the anger?

Bobi Wine

This week I listened to a young man who sells clothes downtown speaking through tears.

URA has stepped up its operations. Traders who used to combine five or so people to bring in one container can no longer do so in the same way. Clothes are being measured in kilograms, yet the people selling them do not sell clothes by kilograms.

They sell by material, design and piece. At the same time, Chinese imports, backed by economies of scale and other advantages, are making it increasingly difficult for local traders to compete.

The young man was really worried about his livelihood. On the same day, I read a story in *The Observer *about a woman in Nansana who died in a house fire in circumstances that police are still investigating, with local leaders linking her distress to debt and pressure from moneylenders.

These may appear to be isolated stories. Perhaps they are. But they are also small windows into what is happening on the ground. The economy is becoming harder for many people. The shilling is under pressure, with the dollar recently trading around the levels of Shs 3,900 and analysts warning of further weakness amid higher demand for dollars and rising fuel costs.

When the shilling weakens, everything that depends on imports becomes more expensive. Traders pay more for goods. Transport costs rise. Businesses need more money to restock. Eventually the ordinary person pays for it through higher prices.

Then add the difficulty of travelling to traditional trading markets such as the UAE, the pressure from taxes and enforcement, unemployment and debt. For a while, perhaps the assumption has been that intimidation would eventually make Ugandans afraid enough to remain silent. Arrest people. Abduct some. Frighten those who speak out loudly.

Make an example of a few and the rest will learn. But the recent case of activist Praise Aloikin Opoloje has shown something else. Whatever conclusion one reaches about the circumstances of her arrest, the important political fact is that the story generated enormous public attention.

Fear can silence people, but it does not remove the reason they are angry. Sometimes it does the opposite. It creates a point around which that anger gathers. We have seen this before in other societies.

People who have almost nothing to lose sometimes become the people least willing to remain silent. Economic hardship creates conditions in which small incidents can acquire a much larger meaning. And that is where Bobi Wine becomes relevant.

One thing I have always found interesting about Bobi Wine is how deeply committed he has been to a peaceful transfer of power. Even when his supporters have been angry, he has repeatedly tried to keep them within peaceful political action.

During the 2020 election period, the arrest of Bobi Wine triggered deadly protests in Kampala and elsewhere. His campaign was also marked by serious violence, including the death of his bodyguard Francis Senteza.

Yet Bobi continued to insist on a political path rather than allowing the anger around him to become something he could no longer control. His absence creates an interesting situation for the state.

The people who are most frustrated with the government also happen to have a political leader who has spent years telling them to remain peaceful. In a strange way, Bobi Wine has become one of the things standing between political frustration and political disorder. He holds a large part of that anger.

We often discuss Uganda’s future as if the only important actors are Museveni, Muhoozi, the army and the political elites around them. We forget the citizens and yet citizens are ultimately what political stability is made of.

Whoever was following the 2026 election results beyond the official announcements knows that support for political alternatives is substantial, particularly in the country’s major urban centres.

That support is not entirely about Bobi Wine as an individual. Bobi is the leader through whom much of that sentiment has found political expression. The sentiment itself is bigger than him. And that means it can survive him. At some point, anger can detach itself from its political custodian.

The Aloikin-inspired anger will perhaps fizzle out. We have seen many of these moments of public anger disappear. The government may continue to contain it. However, we should learn not to confuse temporary silence with permanent stability.

The young trader I listened to this week does not need a political theory. He needs his business to survive. The woman in Nansana did not need a political slogan. She needed a way out of her debts and there many like them.

We know this government will not solve their issues. These economic concerns will ultimately boil. When people’s livelihoods keep getting harder, and they see no one speaking for them, and when the peaceful political channels available to them keep narrowing, we shall enter dangerous territory.

I might sound alarmist, and perhaps I am, but I can sense the desperateness and I know that desperation of the right amount will not seek permission to express itself. Many are falling into the pit of “I have nothing to lose” and soon it will be substantive enough for us to worry.

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*Researcher with Agora Center for Research *

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