The spectre of enforced disappearances continues to haunt the East African region and specifically Uganda, as terror networks hiding in unmarked vehicles purr across neighbourhoods, hunting down regime opponents and human rights activists.
There are no sirens to alert the victims in the murky world of abductions led by men whose faces are concealed by masks.
The oft-repeated cycle involves victims being carted off to black holes where detainees are held incommunicado outside the formal penal system with no records kept in the official police ledger. The victims receive no visits from their next of kin, and there is no judicial oversight in these dungeons patrolled by their terrifying captors, who inflict torture on their victims.
Thousands of Ugandans, including three deputy presidents of the National Unity Platform (NUP), a leading opposition party in Uganda, and hundreds of their supporters recently abducted days before the 2026 general election held on 15 January 2026, remain in detention. Some of those detained are in police cells and prisons, while others are being held in ungazetted places.
Article 23 of the Constitution of Uganda states that every person has a right to the protection of their personal liberty. Arrests and detentions are only lawful if they are authorised by law, justifiable and carried out in accordance with the law. In particular, any arrested person must be brought before a court within 48 hours. During those 48 hours, arrested persons have a right to access a lawyer, their next of kin, and medical treatment.
The Constitution outlaws the holding of persons in unauthorised places of detention, such as military barracks or ‘safe houses’. The right to a fair and speedy hearing is provided for in Article 28 of the Constitution. The right to a fair hearing and the right to an order of habeas corpus are non-derogable under Article 44 of the Constitution.
Under the 2006 International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance, which Uganda has signed, states have the obligation to prevent enforced disappearances and to hold those involved criminally responsible.
But Orwellian governments in East Africa, including Kenya and Tanzania, have weaponised laws initially framed to protect the country’s national sovereignty from criminal and terror attacks, or cybercrime, to suppress inherent rights, and have relied on surveillance under the pretext of safeguarding national security, to target regime opponents.
Uganda’s opposition doyen, Kizza Besigye, who was abducted in Nairobi on 16 November, 2024, and later renditioned to Uganda, was a victim of a covert surveillance plot masterminded by both Ugandan and Kenyan authorities. Besigye, who remains incarcerated in Luzira Prisons, was earlier charged before the General Court Martial in Makindye, Kampala, over allegations of plotting to assassinate President Museveni and overthrowing the sitting government.
The state alleges that the accused, including Besigye, his aide Obeid Lutale and Capt. Dennis Oola, specifically in meetings abroad, discussed obtaining weapons, including surface-to-air missiles, and using drone technology to target critical installations.
The prosecution, according to sources, has gathered, and intends to use, audio recordings, video recordings, and WhatsApp communication logs that allegedly link the accused to the plot. The major question that the prosecution will need to prove is whether the evidence obtained is permissible before the court and it will need to prove that the evidence is authentic.
Intercepting communications
The Regulation for Interception of Communications Act, enacted in 2010, permits security agencies to intercept communications, which includes listening to, recording, reading, or copying the contents of phone calls, emails, and other electronic transmissions.
Section 10 provides for interception warrants to be issued for “reasonable grounds to believe” the interception is necessary for the gathering of information concerning an actual threat to “national security or to any national economic interest.”
There are fears that rogue security agencies could misinterpret such a provision in the law to target political opponents through various acts of interception and surveillance.
Section 5 of the Act requires a state security official to apply for a warrant from a “designated judge.” But human rights groups argue the law lacks explicit and precise criteria that the judge must apply. This increases the risk that warrants are issued without a thorough check on proportionality or the potential for human rights violations.
Section 4 of the Act authorises the Chief of Defence Forces, the Inspector General of Police, the Director General of the Internal Security Organisation and the Prisons Boss to apply for a warrant of interception. Fears abound that due process may be abused by security agents who may hand this role to officials who are not empowered by the law to apply for a warrant of interception.
Section 8 of the Act requires telecom service providers to ensure that their postal or telecommunications systems are technically capable of supporting lawful interceptions at all times. However, telecom clients have reported cases of unlawful interceptions, which is not provided for in Section 8 of the Act.
Section 3 of the Act provides for the establishment of a “Monitoring Centre,” which is administered under the direction of the Minister responsible for security. The Act imposes a mandatory duty on all communication service providers to install hardware and software to enable the interception of communications and transmit them to this Monitoring Centre. The failure to comply with this provision can result in a criminal offence.
Placing the central facility under the direct control of the Security Minister raises serious concerns about the independence and political use of the surveillance infrastructure. Critics argue this allows the security apparatus to bypass other legal checks.
The Act allows for evidence obtained in excess of a warrant to be admissible in court at the discretion of the judge, who must weigh the potential effect on national security. This provision can incentivise illegal or overbroad surveillance, as the evidence may still be used to prosecute a target.
By giving the government broad powers to monitor digital communications, the Act impedes the ability of journalists to protect their sources, and the ability of activists and opposition members to organise without fear of state reprisal, thereby fostering self-censorship.
Across the region, governments have enacted other laws such as the Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Acts, which contain vague provisions that criminalise the publication of “false information,” “misinformation,” or content “likely to discredit the reputation” of a person or the state. These broad definitions empower authorities to arbitrarily target critics and use the laws to conduct surveillance across newsrooms and to target politicians.
States across East Africa are also relying on SIM card registrations and identity card acquisitions to access biometric data, which enables security agencies to track specific targets.
The rollout of advanced technologies such as AI-enabled visual recognition tools, Closed-Circuit Television (CCTV) systems, and digital license plate readers is increasing state surveillance of physical movements. While it’s plausible that they can aid in curbing crime, these systems can be deployed to monitor government critics and muzzle free speech and the right to assemble.
This practice, when collated with laws such as the Interception of Communications Act and the Anti-Terrorism Act, shows an escalating technical capability for surveillance that the law insufficiently regulates.
While draconian laws provide the legal framework for interception, East African governments, including the Ugandan and Rwanda governments, have acquired omnipresent, intrusive spyware like the Israeli-manufactured Pegasus to target opposition leaders and journalists.
Pegasus spyware can be remotely installed on a target’s device. This software can steal passwords, files, listen to calls, and track location with a “zero-click” capability, stripping away all privacy and security protections from targets like journalists and opposition leaders.
In 2021, 11 United States embassy staff based in Kampala had their iPhones hacked using Pegasus, sold by the Israeli cyber-weapons company, NSO.
Surveillance is often conducted outside the purview of the law, and there is a lack of independent judicial oversight, which has further eroded the rule of law in Uganda. These draconian laws create a chilling effect for journalists, human rights defenders, and the opposition, leading to a shrinking civic space.