A constitution derives its legitimacy not merely from its enactment but from the continuing willingness of those who wield state power to remain bound by it.It is a social contract through which citizens surrender part of their liberty in exchange for security, justice, accountable government, and the protection of their rights. As John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau argued centuries ago, governments derive their authority from the consent of the governed and exist to serve, not dominate, the people.Every constitutional democracy experiences occasional violations of the law. A constitutional crisis begins when those violations become systematic, oversight institutions fail to correct them, and constitutional guarantees exist largely on paper while executive discretion increasingly determines political life. That, I believe, is the constitutional question confronting Uganda today. When Uganda adopted the 1995 Constitution, it appeared to have broken decisively with its troubled constitutional past. Following one of Africa’s most extensive consultative processes, the Constitution entrenched a comprehensive Bill of Rights, judicial independence, decentralisation, civilian supremacy over the military, and safeguards against authoritarianism. It was rightly celebrated as one of the continent’s most progressive constitutions.Three decades later, however, the question is no longer whether the Constitution remains legally in force, but whether the social contract that gave it legitimacy has steadily weakened. The issue is not the popularity or otherwise of any particular government; it is whether repeated constitutional departures without effective institutional correction have eroded public confidence in the constitutional order itself.The concern is perhaps most evident in Article 208, which requires the Uganda People’s Defence Forces to remain non-partisan, professional and subordinate to civilian authority. Recent political mobilisation associated with the Patriotic League of Uganda (PLU), publicly championed by General Muhoozi Kainerugaba while serving as Chief of Defence Forces, has inevitably generated constitutional debate. The issue is not whether he enjoys political rights as a citizen, but whether the commander of the national armed forces can simultaneously remain constitutionally non-partisan while leading sustained political mobilisation connected to future presidential succession.The Supreme Court’s decision in Attorney General v Michael Kabaziguruka, which held that military courts lack constitutional jurisdiction to try civilians, reaffirmed the centrality of independent judicial institutions. Yet constitutional legitimacy depends not only on judicial pronouncements but also on their faithful implementation.The same concerns arise regarding personal liberty. Articles 23 and 24 guarantee freedom from arbitrary detention and absolutely prohibit torture. Yet persistent reports of abductions by unidentified security operatives, prolonged incommunicado detention and allegations of torture continue to generate public anxiety. The reported detention of former Kampala Lord Mayor Erias Lukwago, coupled with public statements attributed to General Muhoozi acknowledging his torture, and the widely televised abduction of Hon. Muhammad Muwanga Kivumbi, and incommunicado detention for over ten days as of today, have intensified questions about whether constitutional protections are being consistently observed. Constitutional rights cannot depend upon political popularity or acceptability. They exist precisely to protect both supporters and critics of government alike.Uganda has travelled this road before. The 1962 Independence Constitution, the 1966 constitutional crisis, the 1967 Constitution and the 1985 Nairobi Peace Agreement each represented attempts to resolve political conflict through constitutional or political settlements. Yet each ultimately gave way when political competition became dominated by the concentration of power and the control of coercive institutions. The 1995 Constitution sought to replace the politics of force with the politics of law. As Professors Frederick Jjuuko and Sam Tindifa have argued, however, many Ugandan constitutional settlements have functioned more as elite political accommodations than enduring social contracts. Even legally valid constitutional amendments, including the removal of presidential term limits in 2005 and age limits in 2017, can gradually weaken public confidence in the underlying constitutional settlement.If the social contract has indeed become strained, how should Uganda respond? History suggests that profound constitutional renewal rarely begins within ordinary legislative institutions. Benin’s Sovereign National Conference and Kenya’s constitutional reforms emerged through broad national dialogue involving political leaders, religious institutions and civil society.In Uganda, I believe Buganda and Busoga are well placed to convene such a national conversation—not because they possess any superior claim over the country’s future, but because together they combine historical legitimacy, demographic weight, economic influence and strategic national assets. Buganda remains the country’s principal economic hub, while Busoga hosts critical hydroelectric infrastructure and strategic mineral resources, including the Makuutu Rare Earth Project and the proposed nuclear energy corridor. Their role should not be to determine Uganda’s future but to provide an inclusive platform upon which every region can participate as an equal stakeholder.Uganda’s evolving resource map also strengthens the case for constitutional renewal. Oil in Bunyoro and Acholi, minerals in Karamoja, coffee in Buganda, strategic energy infrastructure in Busoga, and the agricultural, environmental and tourism wealth found across the country demonstrate that every region possesses significant economic potential. The old assumption that decentralisation would create permanently disadvantaged regions no longer reflects reality. Instead, these resources provide a compelling foundation for a more equitable system of governance and resource sharing.A Sovereign National Conference would differ fundamentally from Parliament. Parliament exercises constituted power under the existing Constitution. The people exercise constituent power from which constitutions derive their legitimacy. When the constitutional settlement itself becomes the subject of national concern, renewal must ultimately return to the people. Such a conference would not destroy constitutional order but peacefully renew it by addressing unresolved national questions, reaffirming military neutrality, strengthening judicial independence, advancing meaningful devolution and designing fair resource governance.A constitution endures not because it is written, but because those entrusted with power accept that they too are subject to it. Thirty years after the adoption of the 1995 Constitution, Uganda should begin an inclusive national conversation on whether its social contract requires peaceful renewal. Properly constituted, a Sovereign National Conference could bring together government, opposition, traditional leaders, religious institutions, civil society and the private sector to refound our constitutional covenant through dialogue rather than conflict. That is a conversation Uganda can no longer postpone.The writer is a senior advocate, former Member of Parliament and former Minister.The post Beyond the 1995 Constitution: Time to renew Uganda’s social contract appeared first on The Observer Media Ltd.