Uganda’s Military Commander and First Son Publicly Admits to Torture: How Long Will the World Look Away?
- Kizito Enock
- May 2
- 4 min read
On April 28, 2025, Edward Ssebufu, known across Uganda as Eddie Mutwe, was abducted in broad daylight by armed men wearing military uniforms. Witnesses identified the kidnappers as operatives of the Special Forces Command, the elite military unit led by General Muhoozi Kainerugaba—the son of President Yoweri Museveni and Uganda’s Chief of Defence Forces. Eddie Mutwe, a close associate of opposition leader Robert Kyagulanyi (Bobi Wine), was thrown into an unmarked Toyota Hilux van—known in Uganda as a "drone"—a vehicle now synonymous with enforced disappearances, unlawful detention, and torture.
For days, his location was unknown. Then, in a deeply disturbing and unprecedented move, General Muhoozi himself took to Twitter on May 1 and announced that Eddie Mutwe was “in [his] basement learning Runyankole.” He posted a photograph of Mutwe, visibly bruised and bloodied, with a shaved head and beard—an image that sparked national outrage and confirmed suspicions of torture and degrading treatment. In his tweets, Muhoozi mocked Mutwe’s condition, boasted about breaking him psychologically, and issued further threats against Bobi Wine, whom he referred to as “Kabobi.” These were not the actions of a rogue individual; they were the public declarations of Uganda’s highest-ranking military officer. And they were made without shame or fear of consequences.

This incident is not isolated. It fits into a documented pattern of abuse in Uganda over the last decade, where members of the opposition, human rights defenders, and youth activists have been targeted through abductions, secret detentions, and torture. Dozens have disappeared without a trace. Some have resurfaced with broken limbs, missing fingernails, and signs of severe physical abuse. Others never return. The so-called “drone” abductions have become the government’s preferred method of silencing dissent: swift, brutal, and hidden—until now.
What makes the torture of Eddie Mutwe particularly alarming is the overt and public nature of the confession. General Muhoozi not only admitted to detaining a civilian in an unauthorized location—his private basement—but also ridiculed the victim’s suffering in front of millions. By openly violating Uganda’s Constitution and the country’s international human rights obligations, Muhoozi has confirmed what many Ugandans already feared: that the rule of law has collapsed, and military impunity reigns.
Under the 1995 Constitution of Uganda, torture is explicitly prohibited under Article 24. Article 23 guarantees that no person shall be detained without being presented before a competent court within 48 hours. These provisions exist not just to protect the accused, but to ensure the moral and legal fabric of the nation remains intact. When state actors violate these laws with impunity, they do not just harm their victims—they erode public trust, dismantle democracy, and threaten national stability.
Uganda is also a party to key international legal instruments, including the United Nations Convention Against Torture (CAT), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. These treaties are unambiguous. Torture is strictly forbidden, and enforced disappearance is recognized as a grave crime. The CAT specifically states that “no exceptional circumstances whatsoever”—including political instability or public emergency—can be invoked to justify torture. The ICCPR and African Charter enshrine the right to liberty, the right to fair trial, and the right to be free from inhuman and degrading treatment. Uganda’s ongoing abuses are a blatant violation of these binding commitments.
The implications of Muhoozi’s statements go beyond one man’s fate. They signify a militarized regime that no longer fears accountability. The military's open involvement in political persecution is a sign of collapsing institutions. That the President’s son—himself a serving officer—can joke publicly about torture and threaten further abuse is evidence that state terror in Uganda is now policy, not exception. And yet, the silence from the international community is deafening.

Where are the statements from the United Nations Human Rights Council? Where is the condemnation from the African Union? Why has the East African Court of Justice not urgently convened to review this matter? Where are Uganda’s donor partners—the United States, European Union, United Kingdom—who for years have funded the very security apparatus now being used to commit these abuses?
It is no longer enough to issue vague diplomatic statements or express “concern.” This moment demands action. Targeted sanctions must be imposed on individuals directly involved in torture, including General Muhoozi. All military aid to Uganda should be suspended pending a transparent investigation. Independent UN or AU observers should be granted immediate access to all places of detention. Legal action must be initiated to hold perpetrators accountable under both domestic and international law.
But international pressure alone will not be enough. Ugandans must confront this darkness with courage and unity. Every activist, lawyer, religious leader, and citizen must demand the immediate release of Eddie Mutwe and all other political detainees. We must demand that secret detention facilities—known as “safe houses”—be closed, that victims of torture receive medical and legal support, and that those responsible for these crimes face justice.
Let us be clear: this is no longer about politics. It is about the very survival of human dignity in Uganda. If Ugandans are too afraid to speak, and the international community too hesitant to act, then we all become complicit in allowing tyranny to triumph.
The abduction and torture of Eddie Mutwe by General Muhoozi Kainerugaba is not an act of rogue brutality—it is a symptom of state-sponsored repression. When the President’s son can mock torture and threaten political opponents in full view of the world, Uganda has reached a moral and legal breaking point. We call upon every institution, every leader, every citizen of conscience—within Uganda and across the globe—to act now. The time for quiet diplomacy is over. The time to defend justice, human dignity, and the rule of law is immediately. Tomorrow is too late.
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