NRM’s growing dilemma in Acholi sub-region

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OPINION

By Walter Akena

Growing up in Pece, Gulu, nightfall was never something to look forward to. For seven children, one tiny papyrus mat and a single threadbare blanket were the nightly battleground. We shoved, pushed, and pulled, struggling to squeeze ourselves onto the mat. The blanket could barely cover one person, yet it had to serve all of us. Somehow, sleep would eventually overpower us. But by daybreak, only one or two of us would still be on the mat—nobody covered. That was our childhood nightmare.

That experience now mirrors the unfolding political tension within the National Resistance Movement (NRM) in the Acholi sub-region. The party, which once struggled for space in a predominantly opposition stronghold, is now grappling with internal overcrowding and growing discontent among its cadres. As defections from opposition parties increase, so too has the competition for influence, recognition, and electoral opportunities within the NRM—resulting in a situation akin to us jostling over limited space on a shrinking mat back in the days.

Between 2016 and 2021, the NRM began gaining traction in the region as a number of prominent opposition politicians—including Michael Ocula, Beatrice Anywar, and Simon Oyet—defected to the ruling party. In 2021, the NRM achieved a historic electoral breakthrough, winning widespread support across the Acholi sub-region. More recently, in 2025, opposition stalwarts such as Martin Ojara Mapenduzi, Anthony Akol, and Michael Lakony also joined the party, further boosting its numerical and strategic strength.

Ordinarily, such developments would be celebrated in a party whose strategy emphasises numerical dominance. In political theory, increased membership typically signifies strength and momentum. However, in this case, it is the exact opposite.

Rather than being embraced, the new entrants have been met with resistance and hostility from long-standing members of the party. Within local NRM circles, these defectors have been derisively labelled “Acam Ngwinya”—a local expression roughly translated as “I am trading off my dignity for survival.” The name reflects a perception that these politicians are opportunistically aligning with the ruling party for personal gain rather than ideological conviction.

More critically, long-serving NRM cadres accuse the new entrants of arrogance, entitlement, and a refusal to submit to internal party processes such as primary elections. The claim is that these defectors expect preferential treatment—specifically, automatic endorsements as flagbearers—without first earning the trust of the party’s grassroots structures.

On the other hand, the new entrants argue that they bring invaluable experience, political capital, and credibility that can strengthen the party's performance in the region. Their decision to join the NRM, they insist, is based on a desire to contribute meaningfully to its growth and consolidation.

What is unfolding is a classical political paradox: as the party grows in size and reach, it simultaneously experiences internal fragmentation. The infighting has resulted in a visible split between the original cadres and the newcomers, creating an “us versus them” dynamic that threatens party cohesion.

This situation can be contextualised using the insights of political economist Thomas Robert Malthus, who posited that population growth without corresponding expansion in resources inevitably leads to conflict. The NRM in Acholi now faces this Malthusian dilemma. The number of aspirants and power-seekers has grown significantly, but available political resources—particularly electoral positions—remain fixed or limited. The outcome is increased friction, competition, and internal division.

The party’s internal crisis can also be viewed through a biological analogy. In biology, enzymes aid in digestion by acting on food substances in the stomach. However, when there is no food, these enzymes begin to attack the stomach lining, resulting in ulcers—an internal self-destructive process. Similarly, with the opposition in Acholi now weakened and unable to provide external competition, the NRM appears to be turning inward, with its members attacking each other in the absence of a common external rival.

In 2016, President Yoweri Museveni predicted that the opposition would cease to exist by 2021. When this did not fully materialise, he extended the forecast to 2026. While there has indeed been a noticeable weakening of opposition forces in Acholi, the unintended consequence is a form of political indigestion within the NRM. Victory, rather than consolidating strength, has instead sown seeds of discontent, division, and potential reversal.

As the country moves toward the 2026 elections, the NRM must urgently reflect on the sustainability of its internal dynamics in regions like Acholi. What initially appeared to be a triumphant expansion is now revealing structural weaknesses that, if left unaddressed, could erode the party’s influence in an area it only recently conquered.

The critical question, therefore, is whether the NRM can evolve to accommodate its growing membership without imploding. Can it manage ambition without sacrificing unity? Can it ensure fairness and internal democracy while maintaining cohesion?

If it fails to address these questions decisively, the party may find itself—just like we did in Pece Pawel—scattered across the floor, struggling for space and warmth, and dreading each political nightfall.

The writer works with ACODE as a Research Officer