There is no such thing as a free lunch in politics. Moreover, what is good for the goose is good for the gander. What Anite and Nsibambi have done sets a benchmark that could equally apply to Museveni.
My former FDC colleague and friend, MP Yusuf Nsibambi, is not the first—and certainly will not be the last—to withdraw services after an election loss (MP Nsibambi defends disconnecting village from 'my Transformer' after election loss, (February 9, 2026).
My cousin, former MP for Koboko Municipality, Evelyn Anite, was among the first to do so when she withdrew her ambulance following her election loss in 2021. For context, Anite’s Kakwa people and my Langi, Iteso, and Karamojong—often classified under Nilotic—are ethnically and linguistically cousins.
Yet history shows that shared ethnicity does not prevent political violence. It did not stop Idi Amin from overthrowing his cousin, Milton Obote, in 1971. Nor did it prevent the Langi and Acholi from launching scorched-earth revenge attacks in Kakwa-land and the greater West Nile region after Amin’s fall. Nor did it stop Tito and Bazilio Okellos from inviting West Nile forces to confront Obote and the Langi in 1986.
It had been a vicious cycle of north-on-north massacres—until Museveni arrived.
Be that as it may, Anite and Nsibambi have set a precedent that could allow President Museveni to withdraw his services should he lose the 2031 election to the opposition. And one does not need to be a rocket scientist to imagine the catalogue of services he could withdraw: intelligence and security apparatus, infrastructure projects, energy, transport, and industrialization initiatives.
The consequences would be devastating. The Uganda People’s Defence Force (UPDF) would revert to the National Resistance Army (NRA), commanded by General Muhoozi Kainerugaba, whom Museveni has already called “the avenger.” The Uganda Police Force would become the NRA Police Special Force.
Museveni could order the NRA engineering brigade to undo the Gulu Highway and other tarmac roads he has built. Oil fields, Entebbe International Airport, Uganda Airlines, and ferry services could vanish. Strategic ferries, like Kayunga-Kamuli, might be destroyed to send political messages. The only road left intact might be the Uganda–DRC corridor from Mpondwe to Goma.
The clock would turn back to pre-1986, and Uganda’s relative peace and stability would collapse into a failed state. Every tribe could form armed enclaves, families and neighbours would settle land and loan disputes with guns and pangas, and the Baganda expression “Kulita Mu Kavuyo” (eat in the confusion) would come alive.
The resulting chaos would make the 1994 Rwandan genocide look tame by comparison. Doctors and nurses would flee, leaving hospitals full of unburied bodies, while Ugandans, impoverished and desperate, ransack government, diplomatic, and private properties. The Baganda, being highly organized, might even secede to protect their civilization.
This looming threat is why Ugandans have historically voted to keep Museveni in power for the last forty years. I support them—not for personal gain, but for the general good. There is nothing Museveni could offer me that exceeds what Britain has already given: a multi-million-pound home in a quiet street, rule of law including protection under the Equality Act 2010, access to free and quality healthcare, all in exchange for obedience to British law.
Ugandans must be aware of the risks of losing Museveni’s services if they vote him out. It is Nsibambi and Anite who have set the precedent that the President may now follow.