The Ugandan army has shuttered three independent media outlets in Kampala, sparking condemnation from the British government. The closures, announced yesterday, targeted the Daily Monitor, the Red Pepper, and the independent broadcaster NBS Television. Soldiers seized printing presses and blocked transmissions, citing a vague threat to national security. The crackdown comes ahead of a controversial election next month, with President Yoweri Museveni seeking to extend his 38-year rule.
Britain has responded swiftly. The Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office issued a statement reaffirming its commitment to press freedom within the Commonwealth. “A free press is the bedrock of any democracy,” a spokesperson said. “We urge the Ugandan authorities to restore these outlets and uphold their international obligations.” The statement stopped short of sanctions, but hinted at a review of aid and trade ties.
For the workers affected, the closures are a hammer blow. Printers, journalists, and distributors have been thrown out of work overnight. In a country where the minimum wage is less than a pound a day, the loss of a steady income pushes families to the brink. Fred Ssekito, a press operator at the Daily Monitor, told me: “I have four children. How am I to feed them tomorrow?” His voice trembled with anger not sorrow. These are not just jobs, they are livelihoods that sustain entire communities.
The economic impact extends beyond the newsroom. Advertising revenue that flows to small businesses, corner shops that sell papers, all gone. The media sector in Uganda employs thousands directly, with many more reliant on its supply chain. The army’s action is not just an assault on democracy, but a blow to the real economy.
Britain’s response, though firm in words, lacks teeth. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak has championed free speech abroad, yet critics note that the UK’s trade with Uganda has grown by 12 per cent this year. Will a statement outweigh the profit motive? History suggests not. The Commonwealth’s leverage is weakened by competing interests, and the workers of Kampala know it.
“They talk, but they do little,” said Grace Nambooze, a single mother who sold papers on a street corner. “We need bread, not speeches.” Her words echo across the continent. Press freedom is not an abstract ideal, it is a job, a daily wage, a child’s school fees.
Britain must match its words with action. A review of aid, a threat of targeted sanctions, a clear deadline for restoration. Anything less is a betrayal of the Commonwealth’s stated values. The workers of Uganda are watching, as are the citizens of every nation where the press is under threat.
This is what press freedom looks like when it fails: dark printing presses, silent broadcasts, empty pockets. Britain has reaffirmed its commitment; now it must prove it.
