Set to graduate with his PhD in Commercial Law from the University of Cape Town next March, Kirunda is also a double Master of Laws graduate — LLM in Law, Science and Technology from Stanford Law School and LLM in International Trade, Investment and Business in Africa from the University of the Western Cape. He combines a solid academic foundation with broad practical experience to bring a global perspective to local and regional legal challenges. He is a Director at Finance Trust Bank, a lecturer at Makerere University School of Law, and a Member of the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators (CIArb). Most recently, Kirunda received his appointment as the second Ugandan to join the membership of the Permanent Court of Arbitration based at the Peace Palace in The Hague.
Kirunda has advised both public and private sector clients at the highest levels. His advisory work blends client-specific roles such as serving as Chief Counsel at CryptoSavannah with public sector-facing engagements such as contributing to Uganda’s National 4IR Strategy as part of the Government’s Task Force on the Fourth Industrial Revolution, and leading a team conducting a legal and policy audit on the science, technology and innovation ecosystem in Uganda.
He is also widely recognised for his work representing Vantage Mezzanine Fund II in its high-profile, multi-jurisdictional dispute with Ugandan businessman Patrick Bitature and the Simba Group of companies. This complex case — involving a multi-million-dollar loan secured by prime properties — saw Kirunda help navigate Vantage through a series of hard-fought legal battles, including the successful completion of an International Chamber of Commerce (ICC) arbitration that returned a favourable arbitral award from London and landmark rulings in Uganda’s Court of Appeal. Vantage has now applied to enforce the award and awaits the High Court’s ruling in this regard. The most recent court decisions in this matter from the Court of Appeal not only reaffirmed Vantage’s legal capacity as a foreign partnership to enforce debts in Uganda without local registration — a precedent with far-reaching implications for foreign investment and cross-border financing in Uganda — but also reinforced party autonomy in arbitration, curbing attempts to relitigate arbitral matters in domestic courts.
Known for blending sharp legal insight with strategic thinking, Kirunda continues to champion emerging fields such as technology law, arbitration, and capital markets — while mentoring the next generation of lawyers.
In this wide-ranging conversation, we explore Kirunda’s views on technology’s opportunities and risks, Uganda’s policy readiness, the evolving legal profession, integrity, partnerships, capital markets, the Vantage Mezzanine case, and the future of Kirunda & Co. Advocates.
In your view, what emerging technologies present the greatest opportunities and risks for Uganda’s legal and business sectors, and how prepared are our professionals and institutions to harness these innovations effectively?
Many people underestimate what I call the new economy. You have to look at things differently. Take data, for example. The stories you’ve done in CEO East Africa Magazine comprise a crucial data set. I doubt, however, that you have looked back over the horizon of your publishing history to glean what threads and patterns emerge from these stories. And therein lies the. We often fail to connect those dots — something artificial intelligence (AI) can do in seconds, generating insights and variables you might never have considered. This gives rise to new dimensions of value. That’s the new economy.
Recently, I was in Parliament during a heated exchange between MPs, the Deputy Attorney General, his team, and the Uganda Registration Services Bureau (URSB). The MPs were echoing concerns from artists about AI’s impact, while others were hesitant to engage with it. The Attorney General turned to me and said, “I’m curious what Robert Kirunda will say.” My position was clear: we cannot ignore the regulation of AI — regulate and commercialise it. If we leverage it effectively, professionals can enhance their intellect to create new value rather than fear disruption.
That’s the mindset we should instil in young people — to use these tools cognitively, not just outsource tasks like coursework to ChatGPT. Banning its use in education won’t work; students will use it anyway. The smarter approach is to teach them how to use it correctly.
I reject the claim that AI will replace lawyers. Instead, it will change the nature and quality of the profession. Yes, low-level jobs across industries are disappearing, but high-level, complex problem-solving roles will emerge and remain. In fact, I was recently in Silicon Valley discussing the question of “Who is the author in the context of AI?” Even the top professors of intellectual property at Stanford Law School didn’t have a clear answer. After a 45-minute discussion with a Ugandan colleague, we found a solution — one that we have proposed to parliament and now hope will be written into Uganda’s copyright law. If Parliament passes the amendment in the next six months or so, Uganda could become the first country in the world to legally redefine authorship in the age of AI.
So, based on your discussions and research, how have you defined authorship in the context of AI-generated content?
The simple answer is that it depends. At a simpler level — including at the dimension of generative artificial intelligence — the author is the original content creator. For example, if you write a story and that story is used to train a large language model (LLM), and I then use that LLM to generate a new product, the author is not me, nor is it the algorithm. It’s you — the person whose data was used to train the model — because the intelligence in AI is artificial, but its source is real. The value originates from the original material, so authorship must trace back to that source. This is the level where we are now.
At a more complex level — the level of artificial general intelligence — where LLMs or AI systems will be creating work that is independent of human input in every sense, we will then discuss the recognition of a nonhuman author — and that is where we are headed next. What is clear to me is that the trouble all rule makers are facing across the world is the need to recognise the nonhuman author. And there are good reasons for this: how do you ensure accountability? How do you distribute incentives in such a context? How do you define originality or creativity? But there are answers — or at least early proposals to these questions. I have set those out elsewhere.
For example, if I take an original photograph and transform it into a painting — much like how some artists adapt existing images to avoid accusations of copying — how would your definition of authorship apply in that scenario?
What the AI model has done is take your original photo and combine it with ten (or more) other pieces of information to generate the new image. In that case, the authorship belongs collectively to those ten original creators whose works contributed to the output. It’s no longer the work of a single individual — it’s a shared authorship; a collection of contributors whose inputs shaped the final product.
Building on that, which emerging technology trends excite you most — both within the legal profession and more broadly across business and everyday life?
Law follows the economy — we either regulate what already exists or build upon it. When I look at emerging technologies, people often list seven to nine key areas, but I focus on four core pillars: big data, artificial intelligence (AI), blockchain, cybersecurity, and the legal frameworks that connect them.
In my view, AI and blockchain are the most transformational technologies of our time — but both feed on data. They converge at data, which means you can’t ignore issues of privacy, governance, and protection. Cybersecurity then becomes critical because it ties together infrastructure, software, hardware, and human behaviour.
From these pillars emerge new legal and societal questions. Many think Google is in the “data business,” but that’s where they started — what they truly trade in is behaviour. Everything Google, Facebook, and similar tech giants do is designed to influence your behaviour so that you remain on their platforms. In essence, you are the product.
One book that completely reshaped my thinking in this field is Shoshana Zuboff’s “The Age of Surveillance Capitalism” — it exposes how the tech oligarchy works, from the data giants to the AI and microchip players. These forces are now converging into two dominant power blocks: the original data companies and the emerging AI infrastructure leaders.
Here in Uganda, most recently, you’ve probably seen President Museveni’s letter directing the deployment of blockchain solutions for land management. My colleagues and I actually proposed this back in 2018 ahead of Africa’s first blockchain conference, where we showcased systems we had built, much like had happened in Mauritius. We had invited the team that built the Mauritius system, and we approached the ministry together with them. At the time, no one acted on it — but now it’s government policy.
That’s the nature of these technologies: they don’t create entirely new problems, but they reorganise the pain points in society and offer solutions to old challenges in more efficient, scalable ways. Corruption, for example, has existed for generations. Land fraud is as old as land titles themselves. Technology now allows us to tackle such entrenched issues systematically.
The real mistake people make is looking at these technologies in isolation. Cryptocurrency, for example, is just one application of blockchain, yet blockchain has the potential to completely transform capital markets and banking systems. AI has already redefined how we work — and in law, while the core responsibility to clients hasn’t changed, the risks are higher.
We can no longer view patents, copyright, data governance, cybersecurity, and blockchain as separate silos — they’re converging, and they will have cross-border, transnational implications in every legal field they touch.
Across the four key technology areas you’ve mentioned, how prepared do you think Uganda is — in terms of government policy, our education system, and readiness among both current students and professionals already in the workforce?
We’re woefully unprepared, and that’s unfortunate. Regulators and policymakers in Uganda take far too long to make decisions. For example, we developed the National Strategy on the Fourth Industrial Revolution (4IR) and handed it over to the Honourable Prime Minister in 2021. To this day, I haven’t seen a single policy outcome from that strategy. I’m aware the Ministry of Science is working on integrating some of those ideas into policy, but why should it take this long?
Take blockchain as another example. The then–Deputy Governor of the Bank of Uganda (now the Governor) once attended a town hall in Mbarara, where someone complained about being cheated through cryptocurrency. Instead of asking, “How do we solve this issue?”, the Bank’s response was to restrict National Payment Systems providers — whom they themselves license — from the crypto ecosystem. That’s not an appropriate policy response.
The result? My good friend Silver Kayondo took the matter to court, challenging the Bank of Uganda’s decision as illegal. When I later read his submissions, he had gone back to basics — explaining what blockchain and cryptocurrency are. Even with that effort, the High Court handed down a decision that made matters worse. The court found that dealing in cryptocurrency is illegal in Uganda. But there is simply no single legal provision that justifies this position, and why the decision was flawed. But instead of using that moment to fix policy, policymakers simply said, “The court has ruled, so we’ll step back.” That inaction sends capital elsewhere. And here’s the truth: money hates noise. It moves to where it feels welcome and secure.
If we used blockchain tools to raise capital — yes, even with the current “crypto winter” — we could empower far more Ugandans to do business, create jobs, and change lives. Instead, the knee-jerk reaction is to focus on the scams.
The same applies to artificial intelligence (AI). We learnt from the press that UCC has convened an AI task force, but its work remains largely away from the public domain. We have both a Ministry of Science and a Ministry of ICT, yet Uganda doesn’t have a national AI policy, not even at the sector level. Meanwhile, other countries are moving quickly, defining strategies, frameworks, and regulations to harness AI’s potential while managing its risks. We’re still at the starting line.
Even though many people have already embraced these technologies in their own ways, why do you think we still lack a formal national policy framework?
AI already exists — and yes, it has the potential to create severe problems — but that’s exactly why Europe continues to lead and why even in the United States, there’s constant high-level policy debate. Look at the contrast: President Biden issues a White Paper on AI, and when President Trump comes in, he dismisses it — but crucially, he replaces it with a new policy position. They may disagree, but they keep the policy conversation alive. That’s something we simply don’t have here in Uganda.
Secondly, we can’t even make a firm decision on something as basic as the national curriculum. A starting point is the actual content itself — we can’t agree on which curriculum to use. One day it’s “We’re revising it,” the next it’s “No, we’ve paused that.”
At the university level, the system is just as slow. I teach at Makerere University, and you’d be shocked at how long it takes to introduce a single new course. Just this morning, a student asked me why we don’t have a course on AI and the Law. I told them, “I’m not the university — I can’t create the course myself.” Even when there’s interest and expertise available, the approval process drags on, and government advisory on such matters takes forever.
Basically, we are still operating as if we’re in the last century. Yet, in just the last 15 years, the world has transformed completely. Consider a few changes that have occurred in 2008 alone:
- The Credit Crisis reshaped global finance.
- The iPhone revolutionised communication — before the first iPhone, there wasn’t a smartphone anywhere in the world; now none of us can imagine life without one.
- The acceleration of technology adoption — innovation cycles now happen in months, not decades.
We can’t keep making policies at the same slow, outdated pace. If we do, we’ll remain stuck while the rest of the world races ahead.
When it comes to Uganda’s slow policy action and readiness for emerging technologies, do you think the core problem lies in the quality of our people, or is it more about the mindset, and doesn’t this lack of readiness expose us to greater risk?
I wouldn’t say Uganda’s problem is the quality of its people — we have highly gifted individuals in this country. The real challenge is that the system is wired differently. I’m very proud of the work being done at the Ministry of Science, Technology and Innovation (STI) under Hon. Monica Musenero. She’s what you’d call a technical minister — market-driven, hands-on, and focused on solutions. Her team doesn’t entertain the word “impossible”. That mindset is rare in government, and whether she stays in the ministry or not, the foundation she has laid will change Uganda’s innovation ecosystem forever.
The real issue is political will and national focus. As a country, we chase whatever’s fashionable at the moment instead of thinking futuristically. Look at where our money goes — mainly into roads and the Parish Development Model (PDM). Those might be important, but what do they have to do with building an innovation-driven economy?
- Lessons from the Legal Profession: In my industry, the legal sector, we are 100 years behind the leading global markets. The big law firms in Kampala today are about the same size and structure as top New York firms were a century ago. Take the history of Cravath, Swaine & Moore LLP, Sullivan & Cromwell LLP, or Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom LLP. Skadden, for example, is in fact less than 100 years old, but it rose from being an underdog “Jewish firm” to a global powerhouse because it dared to reorganise and challenge the market that the other firms had dominated.
Some lawyers in history have influenced global commerce in transformative ways. One example: Sullivan, a lawyer who played a pivotal role in the decision to locate the Panama Canal in Panama instead of Nicaragua — a single decision that reshaped global trade routes. This proves a simple truth: law follows commerce, and to lead in law (or any sector), you must think ahead. As a friend once wrote in a book he gifted me, “A true prophet lives in tomorrow.”
- How Inaction Exposes Us to Risk: This culture of inaction and delay doesn’t protect us from risk — it increases it. Just because you do nothing doesn’t mean the disruption won’t reach you. That’s why I believe the private sector must move faster than government — if only for survival.
When I started my career, lawyers didn’t look for clients — clients sought them out. In almost 13 years of running my own law firm (and before that working in another), I’ve never had a “walk-in” client. That model is gone. Today, young lawyers are faster, sharper, and digital natives. To survive, I’ve had to carve out niches and become the best in them.
The same applies to Uganda as a country: when a technology like AI arrives, instead of panicking because we think it will “kill our artists,” we should be asking how to leverage it — and doing so deliberately. We need leaders who understand this, and citizens who challenge those leaders to act. Unfortunately, walk into Parliament and you’ll rarely find MPs who can explain cybersecurity correctly — though, to be fair, there are some exceptional voices in there.
- Missed Opportunities in Policy: This isn’t just theory — I’ve lived it. In 2018, the world’s biggest crypto exchange came to Uganda. I wrote their application, pointing out that while our Capital Markets Authority (CMA) framework didn’t cover crypto assets, we could regulate them. My proposal was simple: grant a 90-day access period to understand how an exchange works, then co-create the rules, and finally enforce them. Keith Kalyegira, CMA’s CEO at the time, agreed — in writing — that the framework didn’t cover crypto, and said they’d call us when needed. Seven years later, we still have no legal framework.
Contrast that with the U.S., where Coinbase — the largest American exchange — regularly engages the SEC in back-and-forth debates, sometimes even in court, until workable regulations are created. That’s how you create opportunity while protecting consumers. In Uganda, political noise drove away capital from the crypto ecosystem.
The same shortsightedness exists with AI. Nobody is publicly discussing its impact on employment, security, or government operations. AI will force early retirements in government, disrupt creative industries, and replace certain skills entirely. That raises questions: Should we still hire on permanent and pensionable terms? Who pays for reskilling? How do we handle mass displacement in industries where algorithms outperform humans?
- Reinventing at Every Level: For me, as a lawyer, policy advice today covers areas I never studied at law school — sustainability, digital rights, tech governance. The same reinvention is needed at every level:
- Individual: I ask myself if my skills will still be relevant next year.
- Business: Boards should be questioning whether current teams, roles, and skills will still be needed — and who funds reskilling.
- National: Leaders must develop frameworks that embrace disruption while safeguarding citizens.
Any boardroom not having conversations about disruption today is already dying. An economy without such conversations will inevitably struggle.
- A Paradox in the Economy: Interestingly, while people say the economy is tight, a walk along Jinja Road tells a different story. Buildings are going higher, skylines are changing, and mini-malls are sprouting everywhere. The shilling has been gaining strength, and according to the Bank of Uganda, they haven’t intervened on the buy side for the past two years — meaning dollars are flowing in. The question is: where is the money coming from, and why aren’t we positioning ourselves to harness it for the future? What are foreign players seeing about this economy that we are missing?
You’ve spoken about the paradox in Uganda’s economy — where many claim the economy is tight, yet the skyline is changing, new buildings are going up, and luxury cars fill the roads. In that context, how do you explain where this money is coming from?
If someone says the economy is tight, they’re probably looking in the wrong place — opportunity has shifted. The real risk is that if we remain unprepared, we can almost put a timestamp on when native Ugandans will become servants or tenants in their own country.
If the money we’re seeing in high-value real estate and luxury consumer-driven investments is largely coming from external investors, they’ve spotted something we haven’t. How else do you explain a company confidently pricing prime real estate the way they do and running multiple large projects simultaneously?
Here’s the danger: when these foreign investors take their profits, the money doesn’t circulate back into the domestic economy. Neither does its effect reach your grandmother in the village. Traditionally, the rural economy survives on subsidies from the cities. If those flows dry up, urban areas will increasingly be dominated by foreign capital, and native Ugandans will be pushed out. This is the story of the remaking of areas like Kansanga, all the way to Gaba and Bunga.
Fast-forward 50, 60, or 100 years — without intervention, the native Ugandan could become as rare as the Native American: landless, economically sidelined, and culturally diminished. This isn’t a far-fetched scenario; it’s the logical outcome of unpreparedness.
What we need is a long-term national plan — not just for the next election cycle, but for guaranteeing a politically and economically stable Uganda in, say, 2150. Leaders like to point to Singapore as a model, and while I think it’s a tired example, in some ways, it’s still instructive.
Lee Kuan Yew, Singapore’s founding Prime Minister, looked at the numbers and concluded the country’s poor literacy rates were a long-term threat. His controversial solution was to actively promote education and limit births among the illiterate. If a university graduate married another graduate, the government paid their hospital bills when they had children. University education became a baseline, with tuition fully covered.
Today, Singapore has one of the highest millionaire densities in the world — you’re more likely to meet a millionaire there than in New York. And yes, they still need street sweepers, but they import that labour. To Lee, it was beneath the dignity of a Singaporean to sweep streets — the role of a Singaporean was to be highly skilled and globally competitive.
To be sure, Lee Kuan Yew’s approach is not the best or most ideal, and certainly, his interventions are not the ones we should follow. But that’s long-term thinking. From birth, Singaporeans are wired into an education system designed to produce excellence. In Uganda, we should be proud of what Universal Primary Education (UPE) achieved in expanding access. But access alone is no longer enough — now we must focus on quality, from the ground up.
Looking back at your last 15 years in the legal profession — particularly in the law firm space — how was the practice and business landscape when you started compared to today? How have competition and the way firms operate changed over the years? And looking ahead 5 to 10 years, what are your biggest hopes and fears for the profession?
That’s a very interesting question. In fact, I asked the same thing to a dear friend and senior lawyer, David Mpanga, back in 2016, and his answer was fascinating. But to really understand it, we need to go back in history.
Every generation has its tide: When I was preparing to start my own firm, I did a quick industry analysis and discovered a pattern: every generation of Ugandan lawyers has its defining wave.
There was a time when the most respected and successful lawyers in Uganda were giants like Senior Counsel Kayondo and Ayigihugu — titans of criminal law. Every young lawyer wanted to be like Kayondo.
Then came the post-1986 era. After the war, the “Indian problem” arose as Indians returned to reclaim their properties. A new legal wave emerged — expropriated property cases under the Expropriated Properties Act (EPA). One lawyer told me, in Luganda, “Twatunda Enyumba Z’Abayindi” — “We sold Indians’ houses.”
The early 1990s saw the rise of lawyers like Peter Mulira, the Shonubi, Musoke team, and the Sebalus — many of whom had strong Indian client bases for historical reasons. Litigation around the EPA dominated the scene, and this is also when the James Nangwalas rose to prominence.
Banking Changes the Game: The legacy firms — Mugerwa, Masembe, as it was known at the time, Katende, Ssempebwa & Company Advocates and Hunter & Greig (now Kateera & Kagumire) — continued to dominate, but new entrants like Shonubi, Musoke & Advocates began to grow. Around this time, the banking sector was in its prime, becoming a major driver of legal work.
Banking didn’t fully eclipse EPA work until the collapse of Greenland Bank and International Credit Bank (ICB). At the heart of that was JB Byamugisha, who rendered the legal opinion in which he advised the Bank of Uganda to close those banks. This period also saw the rewriting of the Financial Institutions Act (FIA) in 2004.
Between 1998 and 2004, several things happened — one of the luckiest lawyers at the time was Timothy Masembe, who, at an early age, inherited a significant portfolio from closed banks. He read the tide correctly. Realising his firm, Mugerwa & Matovu Advocates (later Mugerwa, Masembe Advocates), needed to outpace other heavyweights like Sebalu & Lule, Shonubi, Musoke, and Katende, Ssempebwa, he engineered a merger with Adriko & Karugaba and Central Office to form MMAKS Advocates — today a powerhouse. One of their core business streams became perfection of securities, banking, and litigation.
Disruption Hits Legal Services: Then came Deox Tibingana. Fresh from The Apprentice Africa, he walked into a bank with a bold proposal: “I can perfect a mortgage faster than anyone in town. Give me five titles and the chance to prove it.” A short while later, he returned with them perfected. He underpriced everyone else in the market and focused on high-volume work. Perfection died that day — a classic example of disruption.
The Current Wave: Early Days of Specialisation: Today, we’re in the early days of a shift toward specialisation. I worked for JN Kirkland, perhaps the only purely transactional firm at the time. It was ahead of its time — the market wasn’t ready then. But now, with more lawyers, new fields, and a more globalised client base, the world is much “flatter” than it was 20 years ago.
In the next 10–15 years, I see Uganda developing genuinely super-specialised firms with multiple dedicated practice areas — five to ten in one firm, each with specialist teams. We already feel this in fields like AI and data protection, where the demand for expertise is outpacing available headcount. Traditional areas like litigation and tax will remain, but new sectors like oil and gas, technology and related fields, and sustainability law will become increasingly important.
Big Capital Means Big Law: As global capital flows into Uganda, we’ll see more international law firms entering the market. Big law follows big money. At the same time, I believe we’ll also see nimbler, more specialised firms making more money than many of today’s large firms. The market is evolving quickly — and, in my view, for the better.
We’ve talked about the opportunities ahead, but what about your fears — what keeps you awake at night when you think about the future of the legal profession and the business environment in Uganda?
The fears are very real. First, the attorney–client relationship has changed dramatically. In some ways, clients now rely less on lawyers and more on technology, which means we must work much harder to justify our continued existence on their balance sheet. That’s a genuine concern. The transaction cost of legal services is sharper now than it was 5 or 10 years ago.
Second, Uganda’s structural and governance challenges remain a threat. The legal profession is traditional by nature, but the generational shift we’re seeing — with Gen Z and Gen Alpha lawyers entering the field — is challenging for those of us running firms. These young lawyers are digital natives, faster, and often sharper in certain skills, yet they also expect flexibility that traditional law firm structures aren’t built for.
I’m also deeply worried about the possible removal of the Law Development Centre (LDC). Maybe it’s inevitable now, but for at least five years after such a change, I fear we won’t know what kind of lawyer the system will produce. Even those of us who’ve been fortunate in our careers rely heavily on competent young lawyers. Weakening that training pipeline is risky.
That said, I remind myself that every generation finds — and either defends or betrays — its own mission. The young generation shouldn’t be underestimated; they will find solutions to problems we may not even imagine today.
I remember walking a senior lawyer out of a meeting in 2013. On the way to the lift, I asked him, “How’s practice?” He said, “Things have changed. The courts are dead. Too much fraud. I don’t know where I fit in anymore.” The pain in his eyes stayed with me. My greatest fear is to become that lawyer — unsure of my place in a profession I’ve spent my life building.
The Courts: A System Under Strain: Courts don’t just resolve disputes; they guarantee the integrity of a country. But right now, our court system is painfully slow and dangerously troubled by worse problems than sloth. With the best lawyer and every effort made, you’re lucky to get a judgment in four years.
Here’s the reality: file a case in October 2025 and serve it — you lose a month just exchanging pleadings. Scheduling takes another two to three months. Trial dates can take five months or more, and if it’s an election year, judges spend six months on petitions. Courts then break for vacation, and before you know it, years have passed. Even after completing the hearing process, a judge with a backlog of 80 judgments will take months to deliver yours.
This isn’t the fault of judges or lawyers — it’s the structure. And that delay undermines trust.
The Case for Arbitration: One alternative is domestic arbitration, which can cut a four-year dispute down to a year or less. But to make it work, we need to review the Arbitration and Conciliation Act urgently. And we must ensure courts respect the principle of finality in arbitration, which basically means that they should not intervene in arbitration matters as a matter of course, except for enforcement and in other very limited circumstances. Without that, progress is fragile — every time you think the rules are settled, something happens that takes us backwards.
Technology Is Already Taking Work Away: The other big risk? Technology is eliminating traditional dispute resolution mechanisms altogether. Platforms like Alibaba and Amazon have in-built dispute resolution engines — everything is handled digitally, without ever reaching a Ugandan lawyer. That’s work gone, permanently.
So yes, there’s hope — but there’s also a very real danger that if the economy slips completely out of the control of ordinary Ugandans, and if we fail to adapt, lawyers will become spectators in the system. For me, the challenge is ensuring I never become that lawyer who says, “I don’t know where I fit in anymore.”
Given these risks and systemic challenges, whose responsibility is it to fix them — and who should take the lead in driving the necessary reforms?
I don’t think it’s the role of just one person or institution — we all have a role to play. Law schools must modernise their training. We, the lawyers, must uphold standards and adapt. And the government must fix the court system, because you simply cannot have a functioning country without a reputable and trustworthy judiciary.
The blunt truth is that corruption in the judiciary worries every honest lawyer. Add to that the uncertainty around judicial decisions, the frequency of conflicting judgments, and the inefficiency of the system — these are deep-rooted problems. I once argued a case in which the judge in his ruling openly stated: “It is the live reality of our country that appeals take too long.”
Think about it — when a client comes to me with a good case, I sometimes have to tell them: “This will take 12 years” — because that’s the life expectancy of a dispute from the High Court, through the Court of Appeal, to the Supreme Court. Twelve years is not justice.
Why Arbitration is Part of the Solution: That’s why I push for arbitration. On average, a good domestic arbitration takes six months; a complex international one takes about a year. If I can cut a four-year court process down to one year, I’ll gladly advise a client to pay for a competent arbitrator.
Ugandan disputes — even high-profile ones like the RVR case — should be argued by Ugandan arbitration practitioners where possible. Sure, the Attorney General is right to bring in UK law firms in some of the disputes, but in those cases, the team also includes Ugandan lawyers because Ugandan legal questions are best answered by Ugandans. I’ve done such work alongside international firms, and it’s clear — we must build world-class skills.
Letters to My Younger Self: Robinah Siima — “Success Is Quieter, But Richer”Collaboration Over Competition: We also need more trust and collaboration among lawyers. If I know Kyamutetera is better than me at a particular matter, I should work with him, not compete. My biggest client ever came through a referral from a colleague who trusted me with their client because, in their view, the client needed a lawyer with three core skills:
- One who knew what to do.
- One who couldn’t be compromised.
- One who could think anti-clockwise and take the long-term view.
I was truly humbled to hear them say this to me. And that’s the kind of integrity we must cultivate.
Setting the Standard: We should aim for the standard set by lawyers like Fidelis Oditah, the lawyer who arbitrated the Vantage Mezzanine dispute. In 2004, Chambers and Partners wrote of him: “What he does not know in insolvency law is not worth knowing.” Imagine earning that level of respect globally.
On the question of integrity, while there’s healthy competition in the profession, there’s also a growing group of lawyers who seem intent on getting to the top very quickly, sometimes tainting the profession in the process, perhaps on a larger scale than before. What’s your comment on these integrity issues, and what message would you give to a young lawyer to show that it’s still possible to succeed without taking shortcuts?
On integrity issues, you’re right — this is not new. There has always been that one lawyer whose integrity is questionable. In part, that’s why the Law Council exists, to discipline lawyers when necessary. If there were never integrity issues, we wouldn’t have a disciplinary committee.
What’s different — and worrying — is the scale. Today, the problem is more widespread, and that should force us as lawyers to have a moment of self-reflection — a mea culpa moment, if you will. At an individual level, we must ask ourselves: Could I have avoided that problem? Could I have refused to compromise? Could I have settled instead of dragging things out?
And lack of integrity isn’t just about paying a judge. It can be using influence improperly, filing a case you know is bogus, or repeatedly adjourning matters to collect fees. Integrity is sitting across from a client and saying, “You will lose — don’t file”, even if that means losing revenue.
The Best Advice I Ever Got: When I was younger, I worked with Mr Kakembo Katende. One day, I felt jinxed. Every deal I put together wasn’t working. I turned to his partner for counsel. She referred me to him, Kirk, as we called him then, who gave me advice that has been invaluable: “The problem with you people these days,” he said. “You’re a microwave generation — you want it all, and you want it now. Don’t do that. You have two duties: master your craft and let people know that you know. Your turn will come.”
It’s taken me 20 years to become the lawyer people now recognise from the Vantage Mezzanine case. My first big public break — an amicus application in the Supreme Court — lasted just seven minutes, but it changed my career. That was 11 years into my years of practice. For over a decade before that, I was the junior doing research in the background, learning from greats like Kakembo Katende, Wandera Ogalo, Peter Walubiri and Caleb Alaka, watching how they commanded the boardroom or a courtroom without even having read the file in full because they had mastered their craft over decades.
That’s why I tell every young lawyer: work under someone for at least three to five years. Learn at their expense. As the owner of my firm, if my team makes a mistake, I carry the liability. Young lawyers don’t have that burden yet — they have the space to make mistakes and learn without the career-ending consequences we face at the top.
In my firm, I set a high standard and give rigorous training. I make every junior lawyer who joins ur team one promise: “If you stay for six months, you’ll stand a shoulder taller than your peers.” Why? Because someone once took the time to teach me, and I’m passing that on.
Why Integrity Pays in the Long Run: The peace I have at night comes from knowing I don’t have to look over my shoulder. Clients are forgiving when they trust your intentions. We recently had a case that went catastrophically wrong — not because of what we did, but because the outcome defied expectations. The client flew into the country unannounced. I braced for the worst, but instead they said: “We know you acted in good faith. We still want you as our lawyer — let’s just think differently about the way forward.”
Clients are more gracious when they know you’re consistently genuine, diligent, and ethical. Over time, the market learns who you are. As my former boss once told me, “A lawyer’s best marketing strategy is the client you have today — they’ll tell someone else about you.” The question is: What do you want them to say?
Do you want to be known as a fixer, a mechanic, or a strategist? A fixer only gets short-term, problem-solving briefs. A strategist gets brought in for complex, high-value work — even alongside other lawyers — because clients trust their thinking. That reputation is built over years, not months.
So, to young lawyers: don’t be in a hurry. Master your craft. Let people know you know. Build a reputation you’re proud of — because the story people tell about you will be told whether you control it or not.
I have a 3-in-1 question. First, what has been your experience working with Gen Z lawyers, and how do they compare to your generation and the one before you? Second, are you teaching these lessons to your students at the university? And relatedly, given that your profile — and likely your billable rates — have risen over the years, why do you still devote time to teaching when you could be earning more elsewhere?
Let’s start with the Gen Z question. I have mixed feelings about them. I’ve been blessed to work with some very talented Gen Z lawyers — smart, curious, and unwilling to take things hook, line, and sinker. They question everything, and that’s a good thing. But yes, some are less patient than previous generations, and that impatience is often mistaken for laziness. I’m not convinced they’re lazy — just less willing to wait for and perhaps work at getting results in the ways we know.
When you find one who’s willing to put in the work, they mean well and are open to learning. My frustration is with their rush to dismantle traditions that exist for good reason. There’s a proverb in the Bible that says, “Never shift an ancient boundary stone set up by your forefathers.” Some things — like court etiquette or apprenticeship — exist for good reasons. For one, they protect you from mistakes others have made before you.
Historically, law wasn’t taught in classrooms; it was learned through apprenticeship. Abraham Lincoln never had a law degree — he learned the craft much like a mechanic learns a trade today. So when a young lawyer says, “What is seniority? We don’t need it,” I think — you don’t yet see the value in experience. If I tell you, “I made this mistake, and it cost me time, money, and reputation — don’t do it”, that’s worth listening to.
Because of this generational dynamic, many senior lawyers have simply stepped back and said, “Do as you please — you’ll learn eventually.” And maybe that’s fine; we were also hot-headed once. But patience and hard work do pay off later, but they pay off.
That said, Gen Z brings things we must value: a deeper understanding of technology, fresh fields of law, and new market ideas. I had an intern once who wanted to specialise in a niche I’d never considered relevant here. Two weeks later, I saw a feature in the alumni newsletter from my alma mater, Stanford Law School, about a professor releasing a new edition of a book on that exact field. I realised — in this area of the law, she could be 20 years ahead of me.
That’s why collaboration excites me. They bring energy, tech skills, and vision. I know how to build a practice area, find clients, and frame value. They might say, “Here are five dream clients,” and I’ll say, “Let’s map how to get them together.” That’s the synergy I want to cultivate.
Teaching These Lessons at Law School: Do we teach all this at law school? No — it’s not part of the curriculum. But I sneak in life lessons when I can. Some colleagues don’t like it — they say I tell too many stories. But I learn from stories, and I believe the Basoga people tell the best stories in the world. Stories stick; they make the lesson real.
My commitment to teaching goes back to my first year at Makerere Law School. In my second semester, a lecturer — now a dear friend — called for an extra class during exam week. For four hours, he dictated notes at lightning speed, then said, “If you want to pass, photocopy this extra material.” It cost UGX 15,000, which I couldn’t afford. A friend, Charles Yeteise, kindly made me a copy.
That day, I silently prayed: “Dear God, make me a teacher of law, so one day I can make it easier for someone else’s child.” Teaching is how I honour that promise. I weave in my own practical experiences and tell students openly: “One of you will be Attorney General or even President one day — use your power responsibly.”
Why I Still Teach: Yes, I am blessed that my profile has grown, and my billable rates are higher now than they were when I started. And for that I am grateful to God and to all who have helped me along the way. Financially, I could spend those teaching hours on client work. But teaching is my way of giving back. I’ve never seen myself in politics, and while I could have pursued music (I was admitted to Makerere’s Music, Dance, and Drama programme — Bobi Wine would have been my classmate), law is where I can make a difference.
If 10–15 years from now, a former student says, “I am good at what I do because of something you taught me”, then every lecture, every hour spent will have been worth it.
We’ve talked about judicial officers and lawyers, but clients are also pushing boundaries — trying to bend the law and, in some cases, wasting everyone’s time. Some might say this trend became more visible with cases like Hamis Kiggundu Vs. DTB Banks, though perhaps he learned it from others before him. What’s your view on this general movement, and what are you hearing from peers in investment circles and the legal profession, both within Uganda and across the region, about how this is playing out in our courts?”
Actually, if you go back and look at the filings, the trend people talk about didn’t start with Hamis Kiggundu. Ham’s original lawyer wasn’t Fred Muwema — it was Francis Harimwomugasho. The first case Ham filed wasn’t even about overturning a loan; it was to seek reconciliation and establish the legitimate debt he owed DTB.
When Ham switched lawyers, the plaint was amended and the strategy changed. By that time, the Vantage Mezzanine plaint had already been filed. If you read the two side by side, you’ll see that the Vantage case is actually where this approach began.
In our case, we fought hard to move the matter out of Ugandan courts to London. We succeeded, argued the merits there, and received a 100-page award that dealt with the issues in detail.
The Ripple Effects in the Legal and Investment Community: When Justice Ssekaana’s ruling in one of the related matters came out, three days later, I got a call from a senior lawyer at one of the Big Eight firms. He asked: “Robert, what is going on?”
Why? Because other funds he was advising on started pausing transactions. Half of them said, “Let’s wait and see where this goes.” The other half said, “Give us a legal opinion on this ruling — and attach your professional indemnity cover.”
Think about that — a lawyer with no involvement in the dispute suddenly has his advice questioned, and clients are essentially saying, “If you’re wrong, we’ll sue you.”
I met bankers who told me, “You people have no idea how this affects the investment climate.” One judge, in another decision in this dispute, said something I think should be engraved somewhere: “People should not use the courts to avoid legitimate obligations.” My clients were genuinely gratified by that particular ruling.
The Real-World Impact: The effect of this kind of litigation is that it dries up investment capital.
It’s not just about the current parties in court. The next entrepreneur who could have received funding from Vantage loses that opportunity. The project originator might move on, but the people they would have employed lose out.
Imagine a $10 million agricultural project that would have bought fertiliser, machinery, water systems, and services. The supplier, the distributor, the boda boda rider delivering the fertiliser — all of them lose that business.
The problem is, people like Twineamatsiko in Ibanda, who’s never heard of jurisdiction or partnership registration, bear the cost without even knowing it.
Why It Affects Banking Costs Too: This behaviour also makes local banks appear heartless, but there’s logic behind it. Banks lend depositors’ money, so they price in the risk.
If it takes 10 years to resolve a dispute, banks will try to recover as much as possible in the first two years — before the borrower gets “better ideas,” sues them, and locks the money up in court for a decade. That’s one of the many reasons why interest rates are high. It’s not just foreign investors who get spooked; the risk premium also punishes local borrowers.
This is why we, as a profession, must think about the wider ecosystem. The law is not just about the courtroom; it’s about the economic ripple effects our cases create.
If you had the chance to go back to law school today — knowing what you now know about where business is heading, where new money is being made, and the emerging areas of practice — what would you choose to study?
That’s actually a limited question — it assumes I’d have a free choice. If I were advising myself today, I’d say: I’d push every Ugandan law school to revise its curriculum and integrate new, high-growth fields into legal training.
If I were starting afresh, I’d focus on:
- Technology law
- Dispute resolution
- Finance and capital markets
One area I believe is going to explode is capital markets, if the Capital Markets Authority (CMA) finally does what needs to be done.
You mentioned earlier that ‘we are what we vote.’ Personally, I sometimes don’t feel like voting because I’ve felt that none of the candidates — whether in government or opposition — truly represent the kind of change Uganda needs. While some of our problems are tied to the current leadership, others go far beyond it, and I don’t see those being addressed by the opposition either. Do you think that part of the reason many of these changes aren’t happening is because of the way we vote?
Absolutely. As I used to say on Capital FM’s Capital Gang: “Nations get the leaders they deserve. Period.” Every time I was on after an election, I’d tell people: “Don’t sit here six months from now complaining that the economy isn’t working. You had your chance to choose people who could make it work. You didn’t. Now live with it.”
So what do we say to the man in downtown Kampala being displaced by faster-moving economies and foreign competition? Vote. Whichever way you vote, just vote — because voting forces you to think about how you are governed. That’s why the very first article of Uganda’s Constitution affirms the people’s sovereign right to choose their leaders and participate in the country’s affairs. It’s no accident — and it was the right thing to do.
You can vote for whoever you choose, but at some point, we must start asking:
- What do the manifestos actually say?
- What does the State of the Nation Address actually contain?
The Constitution requires the Head of State to account for the previous year — that’s a legal obligation. If we don’t hold leaders accountable for what’s in those reports, then we forfeit the right to complain later.
I often challenge lawyers on this. Here’s the thing: before any bill reaches the floor of Parliament, it first goes to a committee. How many citizens actually go to these committees to give their views?
That’s the real gap. Committees have lawyers whose job is to turn your views into legal language. If you, Kyamutetera, as a digital publisher, went to the Parliamentary Committee on Legal and Parliamentary Affairs and said, “I’m not benefiting from copyright. CNN’s use of my work is hurting me — here’s my proposed solution”, it’s their job to consider it.
And this applies at every level. Become an LC1 Chairperson and say, “In my tenure, I will fight corruption here.” Why? Because every land dispute in Uganda requires a locus in quo — a physical visit to the land — and the LC1 Chairperson is central to that process. If you clean up corruption at that level, it sends a ripple effect upwards.
If your community sees you doing the right thing, they may push you to LC2, then higher. That’s how systems fix themselves — bottom-up. And that starts with fixing the family, because good leadership begins with good parenting.
On a personal level, I’m sure you have certain rules, values, and principles that guide how you operate — your own ‘campus rules,’ so to speak. Alongside that, there must be people, situations, or experiences that inspire you, because I don’t believe you’ve become who you are by accident. What are your personal do’s and don’ts?
If I had to point to one guiding light — the one thing I attribute any success I’ve had to — it’s my faith in God. I’m a practising Christian, though very fallible. If the world knew me only for my sins rather than my successes, you probably wouldn’t give me a second look. But my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ is where I find comfort, strength in times of challenge, and fortitude.
I often reflect on the Bible because it has answers to my most complex questions. Interestingly, the people who pushed back hardest against Jesus were lawyers — the Pharisees and Sadducees. In Luke 11:52, He even says, “Woe unto you lawyers. You hold the keys; you don’t enter, and you don’t let others in.” As a lawyer, I find His unconventional way of thinking deeply inspiring.
For instance, when the Pharisees challenged Him about divorce, saying Moses had allowed it, He replied, “Moses permitted it because of the hardness of your hearts — but I tell you…” That teaches me that even when a problem seems obvious, it’s worth taking a second look. Is this really how it should be? Is there a better answer? That mindset keeps me humble — reminding me toli wa kitalo nyo nga bw’owooza (you are not as great as you think).
Until I went into the media, one of my greatest strengths was being underestimated. It forced me to prepare thoroughly and admit when I didn’t know something.
The Principles That Guide Me
- Believe in God — my anchor, my source of perspective.
- Prepare — a mentor who has guided me for over 22 years once told me, “The secret to success in private practice? Prepare.” We were taught the six tools of private practice: prepare, prepare, consult, consult, consult, consult.
- Hard work has no substitute — when I have a case, I put in the time and effort, and the market notices. I learnt early in life that I would rather be judged by my abilities than by my heritage – mainly because my heritage alone wouldn’t have taken me too far in the current world.
- Find mentors and coaches early — something I wish I had done sooner. My parents were teachers and lecturers, not lawyers, so their guidance could only go so far in my professional challenges.
I tell young people: find people you admire and listen to them. They know things you don’t. Even in the often-criticised world of Ugandan preaching, if I meet a pastor who’s sustained a congregation for 30 years, I will listen — I may not agree with everything they have to teach, but there must be wisdom behind that longevity.
There are senior lawyers who would freely give their time to share “10 things I wish I’d done differently” — if only younger lawyers would ask. I’ve benefited from people like David Mpanga, Kakembo Katende, James Sebugenyi, and Didas Nkurunziza, who have sat with me and shared openly from the heart.
I once thanked David Mpanga for not holding back on sharing his wisdom, and he replied, “Naffe waliwo abatuyamba” — even though we were helped by others. It’s a chain. The values and lessons I’ve learned from these mentors have carried me a very long way. And I pass them along every chance I get.
We’ve talked about collaboration, arbitration, and the partnerships you run — both the official law firm partnership and the informal mentorship partnerships you have with all the other people you work with. In all these, you’re working with people who have different perspectives, yet at some point, you must align and find a common way forward. What lessons have you learned about managing those differences, giving feedback, and still keeping the ship moving?
First, start with the “why.” Why are you partnering in the first place? Alignment on ideology and strategy is critical.
Second, take the long-term view — or clearly define the scope. If the partnership is meant to be long-term, agree on the do’s and don’ts from day one, write them down, and stick to them.
Third, don’t sweat the small stuff. Pick your battles wisely.
Fourth, know when to stay and when to walk away. One of the songs I often recommend to clients is “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers — it’s a masterclass on knowing when to hold on and when to fold.
The Reality of Partnership: Partnerships sometimes work brilliantly; other times, they don’t. But one thing is certain — no man is an island. We rise because we stand on the shoulders of giants and lock ourselves into relationships that carry us forward. It would be completely wrong — and selfish — to think you can succeed entirely on your own, not if you want to go far.
The key is to find your tribe and make sure you contribute value. When you do, you become indispensable. But if you realise you’re contributing far more than you’re getting back, make a decision early:
- Either stay and keep giving out of goodwill,
- Or walk away before resentment sets in.
The Non-Negotiable: Alignment: Alignment on values, strategy, and goals is non-negotiable.
If I want to specialise in construction law and you’re focused on tech law, but we can’t agree on how to work together, we’ll constantly be pulling each other into areas we don’t want to go — forcing square pegs into round holes.
However, if we agree that, say, tech law might make money faster while my disputes practice pays heavily but takes longer, we can create synergy:
- You feed me during my dry spells,
- I feed you during yours.
From there, we can find ways for our fields to cross-pollinate, and that’s when a partnership becomes sustainable — and long-term.
With everything you’ve shared — your experiences, the headwinds you foresee, and the opportunities ahead — how do you want to position both Robert Kirunda, the individual, and Kirunda & Co. Advocates as a brand? What would you want the world to know about you and your firm?
That’s a very interesting question — and one I wrestle with every day.
We’ve decided that we’re on a long-term journey. Our ambition is to build what we hope will become the most powerful, forward-thinking law firm on the continent. It’s a big dream, but we’re taking deliberate steps toward it.
For now, we’re focusing on five core areas:
- Advisory — all our transactional, policy, and consulting work.
- Law, Science & Technology — for obvious reasons; my heart beats here now.
- Disputes — both litigation and arbitration, because every client you advise will likely face a dispute at some point.
- Intellectual Property — driven by our tech focus; a completely different discipline from disputes, but equally important.
- Tax — because as long as there is a government, there will be taxes. My personal focus here is on international tax.
Our goal is that within five years, anyone looking for the best minds in these five fields anywhere on the continent will find them at Kirunda & Co. Advocates. That’s the firm’s vision — which I work hard to keep distinct from my own personal profile.
My Personal Focus: As an individual, my passion leans more toward structuring deals and building large-scale complex projects than disputes. I love it because structuring deals means creating what doesn’t yet exist. You’re not just resolving yesterday’s problems — you’re architecting the future.
Right now, we’re working on a deal which, if it succeeds — and I believe it will — could change Uganda’s trajectory forever. That’s the thrill of deal-making. That’s the beauty of this work — shifting from the court’s win/lose mindset to “let’s figure this out together.” It’s fun, it’s creative, and it’s deeply satisfying.
I like to think of it in biblical terms: God created everything out of chaos. That’s what deal-making feels like to me — bringing order, vision, and value out of complexity. I also have a few tech start-ups at the back of my mind. But let’s talk about those next time.
Thank you so much for your time. We’ll pick up this conversation in less than five years to see how far you’ve come with these five big, ambitious goals.
