Uganda’s Blackout and Africa’s Quiet Normalisation of Election-Time Internet Shutdowns

On the evening of January 13, Ugandan authorities switched off nationwide internet access — just days before voters head to the polls, placing the country once again at the center of a familiar African election ritual: digital darkness at the moment democratic scrutiny matters most.

The blackout, which took effect at 6 p.m. on Tuesday, followed a directive from a government regulatory body ordering mobile network operators to block public internet access. Internet monitor NetBlocks confirmed a “nation-scale disruption to internet connectivity,” while authorities also suspended the sale and registration of new SIM cards. The shutdown comes ahead of today’s  presidential election, which is widely expected to extend President Yoweri Museveni’s nearly four-decade grip on power.

Analysts say Museveni is almost certain to win. But the conditions surrounding the vote have raised familiar concerns about transparency, military involvement in politics, and the shrinking space for opposition organising. In recent days, armored vehicles have rolled through parts of Kampala, soldiers have patrolled major roads, and the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights has cited “widespread repression,” including abductions and enforced disappearances of opposition supporters.

Against this backdrop, the internet shutdown has been less a shock than an expectation.

Uganda cut internet access during its last election in 2021, a vote marred by reports of state violence and manipulation. This time around, authorities had repeatedly denied they would do so, insisting as recently as January 5 that claims of a looming blackout were “false, misleading, and intended to cause unnecessary fear and tension.” The abrupt reversal has reinforced skepticism about official assurances and deepened fears that the digital blackout is designed to blunt election monitoring, limit mobilisation, and control the narrative as votes are cast and counted.

Uganda’s actions, however, are no longer an outlier. Across Africa, internet shutdowns have become a routine feature of political life — particularly during elections, protests, and moments of unrest. What was once framed as an exceptional security measure has hardened into a governing reflex.

Governments typically achieve internet shutdowns through two methods. The first is routing disruption, which halts the transmission of data altogether, effectively disconnecting users from the internet. This approach has been widely used across the continent, including in Sudan and eSwatini. The second is packet filtering, where access to specific platforms, websites, or content is blocked — Nigeria’s 2021 ban on Twitter being one of the most prominent examples.

That Nigerian ban followed months after the #EndSARS protests, during which Twitter played a central role in organising demonstrations and documenting police brutality. Human rights groups warned that the move threatened freedom of expression and civic space. Those warnings were ignored at the time. It was only after the fact that the ECOWAS Court of Justice ruled the Nigerian government had violated citizens’ rights and ordered it never to block the platform again.

Even so, the precedent had been set.

Senegal, long viewed as a democratic bellwether in West Africa, followed a similar path. In mid-2023, as tensions rose over the prosecution and detention of opposition leader Ousmane Sonko, authorities imposed internet shutdowns in June, July, and August. Another blackout followed in February 2024 around the country’s presidential election. Civil society groups took the government to the ECOWAS court, arguing that the disruptions were unlawful and disproportionate. Reflecting on the trend, Louis Thomasi, the African head of the International Federation of Journalists, remarked that cutting off the internet during elections had become “a norm” across the continent.

The data bears this out. Since 2020, governments in the Republic of the Congo, Niger, Uganda, and Zambia have all shut down internet access during election periods. Ethiopia stands out for the scale and frequency of its digital disruptions, recording roughly 30 shutdowns between 2016 and 2024. Sudan and parts of eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo have experienced intermittent blackouts linked to conflict. Tanzania joined the list in October 2025, when a nationwide outage on election day cut online communication and raised alarms about transparency.

According to Access Now, Africa experienced 21 internet shutdowns in 15 countries in 2024 alone, many coinciding with elections, protests, or civil unrest. The organisation described it as the continent’s worst year on record, part of a global surge that saw 296 shutdowns across 54 countries.

Governments typically justify these measures by citing national security, public order, or the need to prevent misinformation. In practice, shutdowns often serve to silence dissent, obstruct independent reporting, and shield authorities from accountability at politically sensitive moments. Increasingly, they are complemented by cybersecurity and cybercrime laws that expand state control over digital spaces. In Kenya and Zambia, legislation passed in 2025 granted governments broader powers over online content, data, and networks. Nigeria’s Cybercrimes Act, in force since 2015, has similarly been used to curb expression under the guise of regulation.

Unlike temporary shutdowns, these legal frameworks embed more permanent forms of surveillance and control — quieter, harder to contest, and less visible to the public.

In a region where mobile money, online marketplaces, and social media underpin vast swathes of the informal economy, digital blackouts are economically devastating. The Global System for Mobile Communications Association (GSMA), a worldwide organization representing mobile network operators and the broader mobile ecosystem, estimates that mobile ecosystems supported 1.5 million jobs in sub-Saharan Africa in 2023. In 2024, internet shutdowns cost the region more than $1.6 billion in lost economic activity.

This creates a stark contradiction. Governments champion digital entrepreneurship, cashless transactions, and e-governance, yet routinely disable the very infrastructure that makes those ambitions possible when it becomes politically inconvenient. No country can credibly claim to embrace a digital economy while weaponising its core systems.

The contradiction raises uncomfortable questions; not just about state power, but about the role of private actors. Why do telecom companies, banks, and other non-state institutions so readily comply with shutdown orders? In some cases, intimidation and regulatory pressure make resistance risky. In others, weak legal protections and opaque decision-making leave companies with little incentive to challenge government directives.

Uganda’s blackout is therefore a symptom of a broader continental pattern in which elections are increasingly influenced not just through ballots and soldiers, but through switches, cables, and screens. As Africa’s population — younger and more connected — gets more involved in political participation, the struggle for political power is being waged as much in the digital space as on the streets.

Reversing this trend will require more than condemnations after the fact. Clear legal limits on internet restrictions, independent oversight, and meaningful consequences for abuse are essential. Telecom operators and technology firms must be pushed to resist unlawful directives and disclose shutdown requests. International donors and institutions, meanwhile, face a choice: continue funding digital infrastructure without conditions, or tie support to commitments that ensure connectivity strengthens democratic participation rather than constraining it.