Beyond the Bush: Rethinking Vocational Training for Uganda’s Ex-Combatants

In October 2013, I sat in a packed conference hall in Soroti, Uganda, where policy experts, civil society leaders, and government officials had convened to discuss the outcome of an important study. The workshop, titled Northern Uganda Conflict Analysis and Peace Indicators, was the culmination of joint research efforts by International Alert, Safer World, and the Refugee Law Project of Makerere University’s School of Law.

But while the primary aim was to disseminate findings on post-war dynamics in Northern Uganda, what struck me most was the rising concern over a subject that continues to haunt peacebuilding efforts in the region: the relevance and effectiveness of vocational training for ex-combatants—especially those formerly conscripted by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA).

Me at the Northern Uganda Conflict Analysis and Peace Indicators workshop in Soroti, Uganda, in October 2013. The conference brought together stakeholders to reflect on post-conflict recovery and reintegration strategies in the region.

Training the Traumatized

For decades, Northern Uganda bore the scars of a brutal insurgency. Children were abducted, indoctrinated, and transformed into fighters. By the time peace returned after the 2006 cessation of hostilities between the LRA and the Government of Uganda (GoU), thousands of young men and women were emerging from the bush—lost years behind them and no formal education to support their re-entry into civilian life.

The government's solution? Vocational training.

Presented as a gateway to self-reliance, vocational education was integrated into the broader framework of Disarmament, Demobilization, and Reintegration (DDR)—a global post-conflict strategy. Ex-combatants were either absorbed into the national army or enrolled into vocational programs with the hope of developing skills for peaceful livelihoods.

But ten years on, a sobering realization has emerged: The training isn’t working as intended.

"Irrelevant and Ill-Equipped"

Participants at the Soroti workshop did not mince words. Many criticized the government’s vocational programs as poorly designed, outdated, and out of sync with both market demands and the actual needs of the trainees. While courses in knitting, carpentry, tailoring, or cookery may tick the policy box, they have not translated into meaningful employment or sustainable income for many ex-combatants.

“Those who have graduated from these programs are still unemployed,” one participant lamented. “They cannot utilize their skills meaningfully because the training is not aligned with the job market.”

This criticism isn’t new. Since the guns fell silent, various stakeholders have raised concerns about the quality of Uganda’s vocational education system. But in the context of ex-combatants—many of whom have already endured deep psychological and social trauma—the failure is more than just economic. It’s a missed opportunity for healing, for true reintegration.

What Skills Really Matter?

The central question then becomes: What skills are relevant for ex-combatants?

In a region where agriculture, construction, and emerging green technologies are key drivers of employment, the current curriculum appears misaligned. Basic trade skills, while necessary, are not enough. There is a growing call to shift from traditional vocational approaches to more craft- or industry-based models that emphasize employability, entrepreneurship, and innovation.

“The challenge,” one educator noted during the discussion, “is how to transition from outdated vocational tracks to technical education that develops job-ready expertise.”

In other words, vocational education must evolve from simply being something to "keep the youth busy" into a pipeline for employment and economic participation.

A "Reward for Violence"?

Even as reintegration programs proceed, they remain mired in controversy. Some community members view vocational training for ex-combatants as a form of reward for those who once perpetuated violence—further alienating victims who received no such support. This has bred resentment and complicated the post-conflict healing process.

The implication is clear: vocational training cannot exist in isolation. It must be embedded in a broader strategy of truth, justice, and community reconciliation, where both victims and former fighters are brought into the peace dividend.

Way Forward

Uganda now stands at a crossroads. With a growing youth population and rising unemployment, the future of vocational education is a national concern—not just a post-conflict issue. To make vocational training relevant and impactful, the government must:

• Reassess and update vocational curricula to reflect current and future market demands.

• Invest in training infrastructure and quality instruction, particularly in conflict-affected areas.

• Introduce apprenticeship programs and public-private partnerships that offer real-world experience.

• Promote specialized training in agriculture, construction, and renewable energy—sectors with high absorption capacity.

The current system, as it stands, may offer temporary relief, but not long-term solutions. And for ex-combatants—many of whom have only known conflict—vocational training should be more than just a policy formality. It must be a bridge to dignity, responsibility, and economic stability.

If Uganda is to secure lasting peace in the North, it must rethink the place of vocational education not just as a reintegration tool, but as a cornerstone of national development.

Planting Seeds of Peace in Young Minds: Why Kenya Needs Peace Education Now More Than Ever

The scars of the 2007–2008 post-election violence in Kenya remain etched in our national memory. More than 1,000 lives were lost, hundreds of thousands displaced, and communities torn apart along political and ethnic lines. But one group whose suffering has remained largely invisible is that of children—witnesses to the chaos, fear, and brutality that unfolded in their homes, neighborhoods, and schools.

There are no reliable statistics to tell us how many children were emotionally or psychologically affected. But we do know that violence—especially when seen or experienced in formative years—leaves lasting damage. Some of these children, now young adults, continue to carry emotional wounds beneath the surface. They are part of a generation shaped by trauma, silence, and, in many cases, a learned familiarity with violence as a way of resolving conflict.

So, in a country where political unrest, ethnic tension, and socioeconomic inequality threaten the fabric of society, what would a true culture of peace look like? And more importantly, where does it begin?

The preamble of the UNESCO Constitution offers a profound answer:

“Since wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defenses of peace must be constructed.”

This simple yet powerful truth calls us to look beyond peace as merely the absence of war. Peace must be taught, nurtured, and lived—starting with our youngest citizens. Schools can and must become fertile ground for this change.

Schools as Agents of Peace

Education systems are uniquely placed to break the cycle of violence. Beyond reading and arithmetic, schools shape attitudes, values, and beliefs. If conflict can be taught—through toxic narratives, historical grievances, and exclusionary practices—then peace can be taught too.

Designing a comprehensive peace education program across all levels of education—from primary to university—is not just desirable, it’s urgent. These programs must be accompanied by well-crafted curricula and robust teacher training components to ensure educators are equipped not just to instruct, but to inspire.

We also must not forget the millions of out-of-school youth, many of whom live on the margins of society where violence, unemployment, and disillusionment often breed. Tailored peace-building programs targeting this demographic could provide purpose, connection, and a sense of belonging that deters recruitment into violence or crime.

What Needs to Happen

To make peace education a reality, several stakeholders must rise to the occasion:

• The government should take the lead by legislating supportive policies, integrating peace education into the national curriculum, and allocating dedicated funding for its development and sustainability.
• Local communities—parents, elders, and leaders—must be sensitized and actively involved. Community buy-in is essential if peace education is to move beyond the classroom and take root in homes and neighborhoods.
• Religious institutions, with their deep moral influence, can reinforce peace values during worship, in Sunday schools, and through interfaith initiatives.
• Civil society organizations can play a critical watchdog role—holding leaders accountable, organizing public campaigns, and providing technical support for schools and communities.
• International partners and development agencies must not only help fund peace education efforts but also provide global solidarity, benchmarking, and pressure to keep governments committed.

The Cost of Silence

Without a deliberate investment in peace education, we risk raising another generation susceptible to the same triggers that ignited past violence—ethnic suspicion, political manipulation, and economic exclusion. We cannot afford this cycle to continue.

We cannot wait for the next crisis to begin talking about peace. Peace must be taught before the storm, not after it.

The time to plant the seeds of peace is now. And the minds of our children are the best soil we have.