Sitting in my first Peace and Conflict Studies class, I found myself asking questions I had never seriously considered before.

Growing up in Uganda, I remember my parents praying for peace in our country. They did not only pray for peace in our homes; they prayed for peace in Uganda. They believed that peace was essential for us to live, work, study, worship and raise our families without fear.

My parents also spoke positively about the National Resistance Movement (NRM) government and President Yoweri Kaguta Museveni for what they understood as the government's contribution to restoring and sustaining peace in Uganda. Their generation had witnessed periods of serious political instability and conflict, and therefore, to them, the relative stability they experienced later was something worth appreciating.

That understanding shaped me.
I grew up believing in peace.
But sitting in that classroom, I began to ask myself a difficult question:
If we say Uganda is peaceful, peaceful to what extent?
That question changed the way I understood peace.

Peace is often understood simply as the absence of war, violence or open conflict. In Peace and Conflict Studies, however, peace can be understood more broadly.

There is a distinction between negative peace and Positive Peace.

Negative peace refers broadly to the absence of direct violence or armed conflict. Positive Peace goes further. The Institute for Economics & Peace defines Positive Peace in terms of the attitudes, institutions and structures that create and sustain peaceful societies.

This distinction made me look at Uganda differently.

Uganda is not experiencing a nationwide conventional war. People wake up and go to work. Children go to school. Businesses operate. Universities teach. Churches and mosques worship. Families cultivate their land, trade and build their lives.

These are important signs of stability.

But does the absence of widespread war automatically mean that a society has achieved Positive Peace?

That is where the deeper question begins.

Is Uganda Truly Peaceful?

When I ask whether Uganda is truly peaceful, I am not asking the question simply to dismiss the peace that many Ugandans have experienced.

On the contrary, I recognise that peace matters.

The government under the NRM has consistently presented peace and stability as a major achievement since 1986. President Museveni has repeatedly argued that peace created the conditions for development, infrastructure, social services and economic activity. In 2025, for example, he described peace as a foundation for Uganda's progress and linked it to reconciliation and national stability.

My parents' appreciation of this achievement therefore came from a particular historical experience: peace meant that life could continue without the widespread instability that had affected earlier generations.

But Peace and Conflict Studies have taught me that we must ask a second question.

What kind of peace are we building?
Can peace exist alongside injustice?
Can peace exist where some citizens feel excluded?
Can peace exist where corruption undermines public resources?
Can peace exist where young people struggle to find meaningful opportunities?
Can peace exist where citizens do not always experience equal access to justice, services and institutions?

These questions do not necessarily mean that Uganda has no peace. They challenge us to think about the depth and quality of peace.

Perhaps this is where Uganda's conversation about peace must go next.

It is not enough to ask whether guns are silent. We must also ask whether institutions are fair, whether citizens trust one another, whether justice is accessible, whether young people have opportunities, whether public resources serve the public, and whether disagreements can be managed through dialogue rather than hostility.

Positive Peace provides a useful framework for thinking about this.

It emphasises conditions such as:

• well-functioning government;

• a sound business environment;

• equitable distribution of resources;

• acceptance of the rights of others;

• good relations with neighbours;

• free flow of information;

• high levels of human capital; and

• low levels of corruption.

These dimensions remind us that peace is not merely a security issue.

Peace is a governance issue.
Peace is a development issue.
Peace is an education issue.
Peace is an economic issue.
Peace is a justice issue.
Peace is a human dignity issue.
Peace Begins Within Us.

The most profound lesson I took from that first class was that peace cannot only be discussed at the level of governments, armies and institutions.

Peace also begins with the individual.
It begins in the mind.
It begins in the heart.

It influences how we respond when someone disagrees with us. It determines whether we choose dialogue or hatred, forgiveness or revenge, cooperation or division.

If a nation is made up of people who cannot tolerate disagreement, then national peace will always remain fragile.

If our communities are driven by hatred, tribalism, religious intolerance, discrimination or revenge, then the absence of war alone cannot give us lasting peace.

Therefore, when my parents prayed for peace in Uganda, perhaps they were praying for more than the absence of fighting. 

Perhaps they were praying for a Uganda where people could live with dignity.

A Uganda where disagreements could be settled through dialogue.
A Uganda where justice could be pursued without violence.
A Uganda where young people could see a future.
A Uganda where leaders and citizens could work together despite their differences.

The Peace We Have Must Become the Peace We Build. Because A country that invests in peace invests in its economy, its people, its institutions and its future.

I therefore do not want to dismiss the peace that Ugandans have experienced. Neither do I want to romanticise it.

I want us to deepen it.

The challenge before Uganda is not simply to preserve the absence of large-scale conflict. It is to build institutions, relationships and social conditions that make peace sustainable.

This requires responsible leadership.

It requires citizens who reject violence.

It requires accountable institutions.

It requires opportunities for young people.

It requires justice and respect for human dignity.

It requires dialogue across political, ethnic, religious and social differences.

And it requires a generation that understands that peace is not somebody else's responsibility.

Peace is our responsibility.

My parents taught me to pray for peace in Uganda. My Peace and Conflict Studies class has now taught me to ask what that peace actually means.

And perhaps that is the most important question of all:

Is Uganda truly peaceful?

Perhaps the answer should not simply be yes or no.

Perhaps the more important question is:

What are we, as Ugandans, doing every day to make our peace deeper, fairer and more sustainable?

Because peace is not merely something we inherit from the generation before us.

Peace is something we must continually build.