From the Shah of Iran to Augusto Pinochet in Chile, from Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines to Hosni Mubarak and later Abdel Fattah el-Sisi in Egypt, and from Suharto’s Indonesia to the enduring partnership with Saudi Arabia, the United States has repeatedly sided with regimes that advanced American security, economic, or geopolitical interests.
During the Cold War, anti-communism justified support for military governments across Latin America, East Asia, and parts of Africa. After 9/11, counterterrorism cooperation sustained ties with imperfect partners in the Middle East, South Asia, and the Horn of Africa.
This history is the necessary context for understanding the enduring United States-Uganda strategic relationship.
Uganda has supplied capable forces for nearly two decades to African Union missions in Somalia against al-Shabaab, received training, equipment, and logistics support from Washington, cooperated on regional counterterrorism, including against the Allied Democratic Forces, and engaged in substantial health co-investment.
Uganda’s readiness to contribute to an international stabilisation force in Gaza following an American invitation further illustrates the practical alignment.
In practice, sustained cooperation of this kind treats Uganda as a functional partner whose governance is sufficiently reliable for shared security and regional stability purposes.
Against this backdrop, Ugandan political elites and opposition figures who loiter in the United States seeking remedy for home-grown predicaments are taking shade under the wrong tree.
Figures such as Opposition leader Robert Kyagulanyi (Bobi Wine) have spent time in Washington urging targeted sanctions, reviews of security assistance, and greater pressure on President Museveni and senior military figures after disputed elections and domestic political contestation.
Diaspora activists and lobbyists amplify these calls, petitioning Congress and administrations to use Magnitsky-style tools or condition aid. The hope is that American leverage will force internal political change that has proved elusive at home.
History and current practice suggest limited returns. The United States has long maintained relationships with governments whose domestic critics also sought refuge or advocacy in Washington.
When strategic value persisted, the partnerships largely continued, sometimes with periodic statements of concern, visa restrictions on individuals, or selective sanctions, but without wholesale abandonment of the relationship. American policy is not a court of appeal for resolving every country’s internal power struggles.
Domestic legitimacy, institutional strength, and political outcomes must ultimately be contested and settled within Uganda itself. External pressure can sometimes amplify costs, but it rarely substitutes for domestic political capacity.
What remains for those seeking remedy abroad is the hard work of building durable domestic coalitions, institutions, and narratives capable of competing effectively at home-while recognising that great powers prioritise their own interests.
Uganda’s cooperation with the United States on security and health does not erase governance shortcomings or human rights concerns that successive American administrations have noted. It does, however, demonstrate that Washington continues to find practical value in the partnership. That value, more than any abstract commitment to perfecting another country’s political system, has shaped American foreign policy for decades.
Those who expect the United States to act primarily as an enforcer of good governance in Kampala misread both the record and the incentives. Strategic partnership endures where interests align; political tours in Washington do not rewrite that logic.