As Uganda Heads Toward Elections, Starlink Imports Are Handed to the Military
Military approval enters the internet supply chain just as campaigns move into their final stretch
Uganda has seen administrative directives come and go, but some land differently because of timing and memory. The Uganda Revenue Authority’s December memo halting the clearance of Starlink equipment unless backed by written military approval is one of those moments. It arrived weeks before national elections and immediately revived a precedent many Ugandans have not forgotten.
In 2021, the country went offline during the election period. Internet access was cut nationwide, drawing condemnation from civil society groups and election observers. That episode sits just beneath the surface of the current move, giving a customs instruction a deeper political echo.
This time, the state is not switching off the internet. Instead, it is narrowing who can bring in an alternative means of staying connected.
How a Tax Office Became a Gatekeeper
The mechanics of the directive are straightforward. Customs officers have been instructed to stop all Starlink-related imports unless the importer presents a clearance letter from the Chief of Defence Forces. That office is held by Muhoozi Kainerugaba, President Yoweri Museveni’s eldest son.
What makes this unusual is not the restriction itself, but the route it takes. The Uganda Revenue Authority is a fiscal institution, not a security body. Yet it has been tasked with enforcing a policy that places satellite communication equipment under military discretion.
There is no public guidance on how approvals are assessed or how long the process takes. The absence of detail turns routine border clearance into a personal authorization system, one that sits outside normal regulatory channels.
Why Satellite Internet Draws Scrutiny
Starlink’s appeal helps explain the unease. Satellite internet does not rely on local towers or fibre lines once installed. For users, that independence offers resilience. For authorities, it removes familiar points of oversight.
During politically sensitive periods, that distinction matters. Traditional telecom networks are licensed, monitored, and, if necessary, interrupted. Satellite connections operate beyond those controls. Requiring military sign-off restores a gate before the technology ever reaches a user.
This is less about bandwidth and more about architecture. The concern is not what Starlink says it does, but how it does it.
Muhoozi Kainerugaba’s Expanding Reach
Muhoozi’s role in this arrangement reinforces an existing pattern. His position as Chief of Defence Forces already places him at the intersection of security and politics. By making his office the approving authority for satellite equipment, that influence extends into civilian communications infrastructure.
The directive effectively centralizes decision-making. Importers, aid groups, and media organizations now face a single approval point for a technology that operates outside state networks. In a system where personal authority carries weight, that concentration alters behavior even without explicit refusals.
Delays alone can be enough.
The Election Clock and Digital Anxiety
The election calendar sharpens interpretation. Campaign periods heighten state sensitivity around information flow, coordination, and observation. Satellite internet has been used elsewhere to maintain connectivity when local networks falter or face restrictions.
Uganda’s move does not mention elections, but its timing speaks clearly. Anyone planning to rely on Starlink in the coming weeks must now navigate a military process that did not exist before mid-December. Some will comply. Others will shelve plans or look for alternatives.
The result is a narrower corridor for independent connectivity at a moment when demand for it is highest.
Uganda Within a Wider African Pattern
This development also fits a broader continental picture. Across Africa, Starlink’s rollout has been uneven. Regulatory friction, pressure from domestic telecom operators, and demands for tighter oversight have slowed adoption in several countries.
Uganda is not acting in isolation. Many governments are wary of communication systems they cannot easily supervise, especially during elections. The difference here is the clarity of the chain of command. Military authorization is not implied. It is written into the customs process.
That clarity removes ambiguity but raises its own questions.
After January, What Stays in Place
Once elections pass, the directive’s fate will matter as much as its introduction. Temporary measures have a habit of becoming routine, particularly when they slot neatly into existing control frameworks.
If military approval remains a standing requirement for satellite equipment, Uganda’s communications landscape will have shifted in practical terms, even if no law changes. Access will hinge less on regulation and more on discretion.
For now, the policy says most through its process rather than its language. A memo circulated. Customs officers were instructed. The rest followed automatically.
In Uganda’s digital history, that sequence is familiar.
Go to TECHTRENDSKE.co.ke for more tech and business news from the African continent.
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