Owiny-Dollo stands firm on ban against military trials for civilians

Chief Justice Alfonse Chigamoy Owiny-Dollo has no patience for the suggestion that he needed courage to rule against the trial of civilians in military courts.

For him, it was never a question of bravery. It was about the law, and the oath he took to uphold it.

“I never required even an iota of courage to interpret the Constitution versus the UPDF Act,” he told an audience gathered for the 8th Benedicto Kiwanuka Memorial Lecture. “No courage at all.”

In January, Owiny-Dollo and his fellow justices of the Supreme court delivered a landmark ruling declaring that military courts lack jurisdiction to try civilians. The decision, handed down in a constitutional petition by former legislator Michael Kabaziguruka, was widely celebrated by lawyers, activists and ordinary Ugandans as a rare assertion of judicial independence in a country where the military wields enormous influence.

Yet in the weeks since, parliament has passed—and President Museveni has signed—the Uganda People’s Defence Forces (Amendment) Act 2025, reinstating the military’s authority to try civilians in certain circumstances.

Human rights defenders argue the law defies not only the Constitution but also the very Supreme court ruling it sought to override. The National Unity Platform, Uganda’s largest opposition party, has already petitioned the Constitutional court to challenge the amendment.

The controversy over judicial courage surfaced during the memorial lecture in honor of Benedicto Kiwanuka, Uganda’s first chief justice, who was abducted and murdered by Idi Amin’s military in 1972. Francis Gimara, former president of the Uganda Law Society, used his keynote address to urge judges to cultivate “civic courage” in defending justice, describing it as the truest way to honor Kiwanuka’s legacy.

But Owiny-Dollo pushed back. To him, the late chief justice’s legacy was not about daring to defy power; it was about being faithful to his oath.

“If it requires a judge to be courageous to render justice, that is very dangerous,” he said. “To my understanding, Chief Justice Benedicto Kiwanuka was a conscientious person. A man who stood by his oath.”

For Owiny-Dollo, the idea that courage is necessary implies that judges must weigh their decisions against fear or pressure. That, he argued, misses the point.

“The courage he would have needed was to come up with a ruling that was contrary to the law,” he said. Owiny-Dollo’s defense of the January ruling comes at a moment when its impact remains uncertain.

While the Supreme court ordered the military to halt all ongoing civilian trials and transfer those cases to civilian courts, many suspects still remain in detention. The new UPDF Act, meanwhile, gives military courts renewed authority to prosecute civilians accused of collaborating with soldiers in offenses “connected to the army.”

Critics say this legislative maneuver undermines the rule of law and risks further entrenching military influence over Uganda’s justice system. Activists point to the irony of commemorating Kiwanuka’s murder by soldiers in 1972 while simultaneously passing laws that keep civilians under the military’s judicial shadow.

THE STAKES FOR UGANDA’S JUDICIARY 

The larger question is not only whether civilians should ever face military justice, but whether Uganda’s judiciary can hold the line against political and military pressure.

Owiny- Dollo insists the Supreme court’s judgment was a straightforward reading of the Constitution. But with parliament and the presidency pulling in the opposite direction, the ruling has become part of a much bigger battle: who truly guards the rights of Ugandans when the courts and the legislature disagree?

For now, the chief justice maintains he does not see himself as a man of courage, only one of conscience. But as Uganda’s legal and political institutions collide, the legacy of his words— and the force of his ruling—may yet depend on how much courage the judiciary can summon in the years ahead.