The debate over whether President Museveni should pledge support to cultural institutions such as the Busoga Kingdom headquarters is one of those uniquely Ugandan conversations where law, politics, and culture collide in a noisy but fascinating dance. The article by Mbajjwe Rogers, Kingdom Misplaced, Political Devolution—Illegal Implications, makes a spirited case against the President’s pledge, invoking constitutional clauses, public finance principles, and the specter of blurred lines between culture and politics. Yet, while the critique is sharp, it misses the broader truth about the role cultural institutions play in Uganda’s social and economic transformation, and why government support—whether through the President’s discretionary donations or parliamentary approval—is not only defensible but in fact desirable. To dismiss such pledges as unconstitutional indulgences is to ignore the lived reality of Ugandan communities where kingdoms are not just ceremonial relics but engines of development, custodians of identity, and partners in governance.
Let us begin with the constitutional argument. Article 246 of the 1995 Constitution indeed defines kingdoms as cultural institutions without legislative or executive authority. But to interpret this as a prohibition against any form of state support is to stretch the text beyond its intent. The framers of the Constitution sought to prevent kingdoms from becoming parallel governments, not to strip them of relevance or deny them resources to fulfill their cultural mandate. Culture, after all, is not ornamental; it is functional. When a kingdom builds schools, runs hospitals, or organizes community development projects, it is not legislating or executing state power—it is supplementing government efforts in areas where the state itself often struggles. To say that supporting such initiatives violates the Constitution is to confuse cultural autonomy with political competition. The Constitution limits kingdoms from wielding coercive authority, but it does not forbid them from being partners in social progress. And if the state can fund churches, mosques, and NGOs under the banner of community development, why should kingdoms be treated as pariahs?
The article also invokes Article 237 and the Public Finance Management Act, warning against misappropriation of taxpayer money. This is a fair concern, but again, the critique is too rigid. Public funds must indeed serve the public interest, but what could be more in the public interest than strengthening institutions that already serve communities? Busoga Kingdom, like Buganda, Bunyoro, and Tooro, runs schools, health centers, and cultural programs that directly benefit citizens. These are not private indulgences; they are public goods delivered through cultural structures. If the government builds a headquarters for Busoga, it is not financing a private club—it is investing in an institution that organizes, educates, and mobilizes thousands of Ugandans. Accountability is important, yes, but accountability should not be weaponized to delegitimize cultural institutions. The real question is not whether kingdoms deserve support, but how that support can be structured transparently to ensure it benefits the people. To argue otherwise is to reduce culture to a hobby, when in fact it is a pillar of development.
Critics also worry about politicization—that supporting one kingdom sets a precedent for others, creating demands and expectations. But is that really a problem? Uganda is a mosaic of cultures, and acknowledging them through tangible support is not a threat to national unity but a reinforcement of it. When the state invests in Busoga, Buganda, or Acholi, it is saying: your heritage matters, your institutions matter, your people matter. Far from undermining neutrality, such gestures strengthen the bond between government and citizens by recognizing the cultural identities that shape their lives. Neutrality does not mean neglect; it means fairness. And fairness can be achieved by supporting all cultural institutions equitably, not by starving them all in the name of constitutional purism.
Now, let us address the elephant in the room: the President’s discretionary budget. Rogers criticizes Museveni for pledging funds without parliamentary approval, suggesting this bypasses legal safeguards. But here is the reality: the President has a donations budget precisely for such purposes.
It is a recognized mechanism within government finance, allowing the head of state to respond to community needs, emergencies, and cultural initiatives without the bureaucratic delays of parliamentary processes. This is not a constitutional violation; it is a constitutional accommodation. And when the President later sends such pledges to Parliament for approval, as he often does, it is not an abuse of power but a demonstration of accountability.
The fact that he commands numerical superiority in Parliament is not a flaw—it is a reflection of political legitimacy. To frame this as a constitutional crisis is to dramatize what is, in fact, a routine exercise of executive discretion.
The article’s reliance on legal scholars and precedents is admirable, but it risks becoming an echo chamber of caution without considering the practical realities of governance. Uganda is a country where state capacity is often stretched thin. The central government cannot build every school, run every hospital, or organize every cultural program. Kingdoms step into this gap, mobilizing resources, volunteers, and cultural pride to deliver services that the state alone cannot. To deny them support is to deny citizens the benefits of a partnership that has proven effective. Buganda Kingdom’s schools educate thousands; Tooro’s cultural programs preserve language and heritage; Busoga’s initiatives promote health and education. These are not luxuries—they are necessities. And when the President supports them, he is not undermining the Constitution; he is fulfilling its spirit by promoting the welfare of citizens.
It is also worth noting that culture is not static—it evolves, and in Uganda, it has evolved into a vehicle for development. The restoration of kingdoms in 1993 was not a nostalgic gesture; it was a recognition that cultural institutions are integral to national identity and social cohesion. Since then, kingdoms have proven their relevance by engaging in development projects, peacebuilding, and community mobilization. To argue that they should remain purely ceremonial is to freeze them in time, ignoring their dynamic role in modern Uganda. The President’s pledge to build Busoga’s headquarters is therefore not a constitutional aberration but a continuation of a policy that values culture as a partner in development.
Of course, accountability must remain central. Government support to kingdoms should be transparent, equitable, and focused on projects that deliver tangible benefits. But accountability is not achieved by denying support altogether—it is achieved by structuring it properly. Parliament can play its role in oversight, auditors can ensure funds are used appropriately, and citizens can demand results. What is needed is not prohibition but regulation. And regulation is entirely compatible with the President’s pledge.
The article’s conclusion—that Museveni risks violating the Constitution and principles of good governance—is therefore overstated. The real risk lies not in supporting kingdoms but in neglecting them. A government that ignores cultural institutions risks alienating citizens, weakening social cohesion, and missing opportunities for development. Supporting kingdoms is not a threat to governance—it is a supplement to it. And in a country as diverse as Uganda, supplements are not optional; they are essential.
In critiquing Rogers’ article, one must appreciate the legal caution it raises. Law matters, and constitutional boundaries must be respected. But law must also be interpreted in context, with an eye to the realities of governance and the needs of citizens. To treat cultural institutions as untouchable relics is to misunderstand their role in Uganda today. They are not parallel governments; they are partners in development. And when the President supports them, he is not violating the Constitution—he is fulfilling its promise of promoting the welfare of Ugandans.
So let us not reduce this debate to a sterile legal argument. Let us see it for what it is: a question of how best to harness culture for development. The President’s pledge to build Busoga’s headquarters is not a constitutional sin—it is a recognition of culture’s power to transform communities. And if that requires a few shillings from the donations budget, or a parliamentary vote backed by numerical superiority, so be it. After all, governance is not about rigid adherence to text; it is about delivering results for people. And in Uganda, people live not just as citizens of a state but as members of cultural communities that shape their identity, values, and aspirations. Supporting those communities is not just okay—it is necessary.
The writer is the Assistant Resident District Commissioner for Bugiri District
