When the 12th Parliament opened its doors in May 2026, voters across Uganda expected the newcomers who ousted legendary parliamentary firebrands to instantly pick up the battle cries of their predecessors.
Instead, across the first 100 days of the new legislative term, the floor of Parliament has largely met a wave of silence from the fresh faces sent to represent them. An analysis of the Official Parliamentary Hansard between May 13 and August 2026 reveals a stark reality: most lawmakers elected to replace the country’s most vocal, highly rated MPs have barely uttered a word in plenary.
For many, their names appear in the official record just three times, once when taking the oath of office, and twice when designated to sessional committees by Government Chief Whip Dr Jane Ruth Aceng or Opposition Chief Whip Paul Mwiru.
The contrast with the previous Parliament is so loud. In the 11th Parliament, leaders like Ssemujju Ibrahim Nganda (Kira Municipality), Medard Lubega Sseggona (Busiro East), Muhammad Muwanga Kivumbi (Butambala), Paulson Luttamaguzi Semakula (Nakaseke South) and former Leader of the Opposition Mathias Mpuuga Nsamba (Nyendo-Mukungwe) routinely dominated national debate, driving scrutiny on public spending and executive accountability.
Today, their successors are finding that stepping into the shoes of political giants is far more complicated than winning an election. In Kira Municipality, National Unity Platform (NUP) lawyer George Musisi replaced Ssemujju, who had been ranked the most active lawmaker on the floor.
Hansard records show Musisi did not make a single contribution in the main chamber during his first three months. But Musisi argues that measuring an MP’s effectiveness purely by microphone time misses where actual legislative power is exercised.
Appointed deputy chairperson of the influential Committee on Statutory Authorities and State Enterprises (COSASE), Musisi says he was thrust directly into an administrative mountain.
“We were thrown in at the deep end,” Musisi said, explaining that his committee inherited 157 backlog reports from the Auditor General that required immediate action under a strict six-month deadline.
“There was really no time for induction. It was time to work from the outset… For the last month, we’ve been working Monday to Friday. There was really no time for resting.” Musisi admits that navigating parliamentary politics behind closed doors presents its own steep learning curve.
“There are intricacies and things that you have to learn on the job, which no one ever tells you,” he said.
“It’s a political atmosphere, dealing with different political actors and the technical staff. I’m mindful that sometimes we’re walking delicate walls.”
While Musisi points to committee workloads, other new MPs replacing institutional heavyweights have remained almost entirely absent from record. In Busiro East, Emmanuel Magoola Matovu, who unseated Medard Sseggona, did not record a single statement on the floor between May and August.
In Butambala County, former journalist Erias Mukiibi Sserunjogi, who replaced Muwanga Kivumbi, remained completely silent in plenary. In Bugiri Municipality, NRM’s Oketcho John Francis, who defeated opposition veteran Asumani Basalirwa, has yet to speak.
Similarly, Brig. Gen. Emmanuel Rwashande (Lwemiyaga) and Sam Engola (Erute South) remained quiet after replacing veteran debaters Theodore Ssekikubo and Jonathan Odur, respectively.
Where new MPs have attempted to jump into debate, the transition has sometimes been rough. In Bugweri County, NRM’s Sadala Wandera replaced legal heavyweight Abdu Katuntu.
When Wandera finally rose to raise his first matter of national importance, highlighting deadly road hazards and missing drainage systems in Idudi Town along the Iganga-Tororo highway, he began detailing past conversations with road agencies.
“Before I came to Parliament, a drainage trench was constructed by the Ministry of Works and Transport in Idudi Town Council. Idudi Town Council sits on the busy highway leading to the Busia border, where we witness accidents almost weekly. Mr Speaker, I engaged the ministry, specifically the Uganda National Roads Authority (UNRA) at the time, before joining this House. However, they repeatedly promised to include the necessary works in the budget, a commitment they have failed to honour,” Wandera said.
Deputy Speaker Thomas Tayebwa cut his microphone time short, offering a blunt lesson in parliamentary presentation.
“Do you see the problem of giving stories?” Tayebwa cautioned him on the floor. “Here we shoot directly.”
Wandera’s intervention brought a specific local concern into the national record. It also illustrated the pressure on newcomers to explain a problem and make their case before their allotted time expires.
Parliament’s leadership has acknowledged the need to give members an opportunity to make their first speeches. For others, maiden speeches have been rare, surgical interventions.
Gyaviira Lubowa Ssebina, who replaced Mathias Mpuuga in Nyendo-Mukungwe, spoke just once on July 8. He used his floor debut to oppose an NRM-backed motion proposing that the Leader of the Opposition should be elected by all opposition MPs rather than appointed directly by the leading opposition party.
Lubowa dismissed the bill as a distraction engineered for “selfish interests,” urging Parliament not to waste valuable time on a motion the opposition never asked for. Since that single intervention, the Hansard records no further remarks from him.
Recognizing that many incoming lawmakers were struggling with stage fright and parliamentary rules, Mukono Municipality MP Betty Nambooze urged leadership to set aside dedicated time for uninterrupted maiden speeches.
Addressing the House, Deputy Speaker Tayebwa agreed to schedule structured three-minute slots for new members.
“To build on what Hon. Nambooze raised during our Business Committee meeting today: historically, at the start of a new Parliament, it has been good practice to give Members time to make uninterrupted maiden speeches, no matter how long it takes. However, Parliament is a House of record. I do not want to force anyone to speak only to stand here and send greetings to their voters. While that might technically be a maiden speech, we must uphold our standards as a House of record,” Tayebwa said, adding that “parliamentary leadership has agreed that starting Tuesday, every Member will receive three uninterrupted minutes.
Go and prepare. Whether you choose to read from prepared notes or speak off-the-cuff, that is up to you. If you feel nervous and shake, you may shake. But I am confident none of you have stage fright. If you stood before voters and won their trust, how can you fail to stand before this Parliament to address the nation?”
The quiet start is not universal. A handful of ambitious newcomers quickly found their footing. Robert Maseruka, the young former Makerere University Guild President now representing Mukono South, spoke three times in his first 100 days.
Other fresh lawmakers, including Nkerettanyi Kiruluta (Kalungu East), Sheillah Amaniyo (Mukono Woman MP), and Harriet Nakwedde (Kayunga Woman MP), have consistently pushed past backbench hesitation to make their presence felt.
Yet, as new members navigate their orientation, experienced parliamentary veterans continue to fill the vacuum on the floor.
Long-serving lawmakers such as Joseph Ssewungu (Kalungu West), Betty Nambooze (Mukono Municipality), Hassan Kirumira (Katikamu South), Patrick Nsamba Oshabe (Kassanda North), Charles Tebandeke (Bbaale County), and Karim Masaba (Mbale City Industrial Division) dominate the Hansard transcripts, capturing the bulk of debate time.
The early silence of their new representatives raises a fundamental question of democratic accountability for many Ugandans: Are backbenchers quietly mastering legislative oversight in committee rooms, or are local constituencies currently left without an active voice where national policies are forged?
The coming months will determine whether these new lawmakers are simply biding their time, or whether replacing political stars comes at the cost of parliamentary influence.
To be fair to the new legislators, we should compare their performance now to their predecessors’ performance when they, too, had just joined the house.
It is unfair to compare performance based 15+ years experience with performance based on no experience.
The MPs’ silence shouldn’t be interpreted. as simply reflecting inexperience or weak preparation; it may be a rational response to a political environment in which VISIBILITY CARRIES PERSONAL AND INSTITUTIONAL RISK.
When abductions, politically charged prosecutions, military involvement, police pressure, party conflict, and executive messaging dominate public life, Parliament can become less a forum for open accountability than a managed space in which members calculate the consequences of every intervention. In that setting, silence may indicate fear, discipline, strategic caution, or uncertainty about which positions are safe—not merely incompetence.
Look broadly at the argument that there is apparent disorder which serves a political function. A constant flow of crises and controversies can overwhelm public attention, fragment opposition, and displace substantive issues such as the cost of living, public services, corruption, and institutional reform. Whether coordinated or simply produced by a dysfunctional system, the effect can be similar: citizens struggle to sustain attention long enough to demand accountability for any single issue.
The Parliament Speaker’s priorities, seem to reinforce this impression. If parliamentary energy is spent on disputes over the Leader of the Opposition, symbolic book initiatives, fundraising, or reactive online messaging while urgent economic and institutional problems receive less attention, Parliament risks becoming PERFORMANCE RATHER THAN PRODUCTIVE. The key question is not whether these activities are inherently illegitimate, but whether they crowd out scrutiny of budgets, security agencies, public procurement, unemployment, schools, health services, and the cost of food.
The apparent confusion over authority adds another layer. When officials or officers with limited constitutional or administrative responsibility issue directions to institutions or leaders above them, an officer ranked 37 and in the military is issuing unconstitutional orders via X, it can produce what might be called “Institutional Inversion”: formal hierarchies remain on paper, but real power is exercised through proximity to the centre, security influence, political patronage, or informal command channels. That weakens accountability because it becomes unclear who actually made a decision and who can be held responsible for it.
The same applies to attempts by military figures or security-linked actors to dominate civilian departments outside their professional competence. Even when presented as efficiency or decisive leadership, this can displace specialists, discourage dissent, and make public institutions answerable to informal power rather than law and procedure.
Taken together, my interpretation is more structural than this article’s. The article asks why new MPs are quiet. My answer is that they are entering a system characterized by intimidation, distraction, hierarchy confusion, and political risk. Under that reading, the silence is both a symptom and a consequence of democratic stagnation.
The strongest version of this argument should distinguish between three claims:
1 – Observable facts: parliamentary silence, controversial motions, security-related cases, institutional interventions, and economic hardship.
2 – Likely effects: fear, self-censorship, weakened oversight, public exhaustion, and reduced policy attention.
3 – Intentional design: the claim that these developments are deliberately coordinated to advance a specific agenda.
The first two can be investigated through records and patterns. The third requires stronger evidence of coordination—orders, communications, consistent institutional behavior, or identifiable beneficiaries; but the conjecture is probably not skewed given the foregoing. Without that evidence, it is safer to say THE SYSTEM IS PRODUCING THE EFFECT OF MANAGED DISTRACTION, whether by design, institutional decay, or both … God knows.
My final point is the most consequential: the cost of these is not only political. When Parliament is ineffective and public institutions are diverted into spectacle or informal power struggles, Uganda loses time, expertise, public money, professional talent, and opportunities for reform & advancement. The result is not merely a quiet legislature; it is a state with less capacity to solve problems while citizens become increasingly afraid, exhausted, and disengaged.
Very unfair on Musisi