Tanzania is due to mark 64 years of independence on 9 December. The day will unfold in the shadow of the gravest crisis the country has known in decades. On 29 October, the East African nation held what was by most accounts a sham election. Authorities barred the main opposition leader from participating. Turnout was dismal, with Tanzanians either staying at home in protest or taking to the streets to demand electoral reforms. The government’s response was brutal; credible reports indicate that in a four-day period beginning on the night of 30 October, the police went on a murderous door-to-door rampage in cities and towns across the country, summarily executing hundreds of people, mostly young men. Now, with campaigners calling for fresh demonstrations on 9 December, there is concern that the state could quash them with equal force. Authorities have already cancelled public Independence Day celebrations and warned people not to assemble.

The immediate need should be to prevent a return to violence, a responsibility that lies primarily with the government, but also with regional governments that have the capacity to influence Tanzania’s President Samia Suluhu Hassan and her advisers. Their private message should be that any recurrence of the post-election atrocities would only confirm sentiment spreading among the citizenry that the president and her inner circle lack legitimacy, while dealing the country further reputational damage on the international stage. The government can help reduce the risk of a repeat event by instructing state forces that they will be swiftly held to account for any uses of disproportionate force. It should make good on that commitment if the need arises.

But getting past 9 December without further bloodshed is only the beginning of what needs to happen. The country’s current quasi-authoritarian system serves only the whims of the ruling-party elite – and leaves Tanzanians with street action as the only avenue for expressing political dissent. Over time, Tanzania will need to embrace the constitutional reforms that much of civil society, the opposition and (most pertinently) the country’s burgeoning ranks of youthful protesters demand, to allow a more democratic political dispensation.

The brutality of the post-election crackdown has profoundly shaken Tanzanians’ longstanding sense of unity and national identity. The country had long enjoyed a deserved reputation for stability, due mostly to the legacy of its founding president, Julius Nyerere. Though he, too, brooked no dissent within his inner circles and sent hundreds to jail for challenging his rule, Nyerere built a governance culture that discouraged ethnic or sectarian politics. When it came to public finances, he was known for personal integrity and avoided the self-dealing and corruption that tainted his peers. His program of central planning engendered economic disaster, but he earned wide admiration when – answering a rare call at the time – he voluntarily stepped down as president in 1985.

The ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM) party has remained in power since Nyerere left office, but its record has grown more tarnished in recent years. Reports of rampant graft under President Jakaya Kikwete (2005-2015) led to considerable public disillusionment. In 2015, the party picked as its flagbearer John Pombe Magufuli, a charismatic figure whose anti-corruption campaigns and large-scale infrastructure projects attracted great support from Tanzanians. Presaging the current crisis, however, Magufuli showed a repressive streak. He banned opposition rallies and jailed opponents, journalists and civil society activists. Dozens of people reportedly disappeared amid a clampdown on suspected Islamist cells along the country’s coast. Facing a determined opposition challenge in the 2020 election, he presided over a transparently flawed vote, in which electoral authorities declared him victor with an improbable 84 per cent of the ballots cast. Magufuli died, apparently of COVID-19, on 17 March 2021, barely four months into his second mandate.

Many had hoped that his vice president and successor, Suluhu, would be a transitional figure who would use her time in office to discard Magufuli’s authoritarian playbook. Those hopes were soon dashed. Suluhu rode out a storm of early opposition from CCM insiders aligned with Magufuli, relying in part on the support she enjoyed from former President Kikwete. She then set out to stamp her authority on the ruling party, elbowing out potential rivals and removing high-ranking cabinet members from the previous administration. In January, in a break from past practice, she announced herself as the CCM candidate for the 2025 polls, eschewing the traditional internal primary and, in effect, silencing anyone who might have run against her. She also steered the choosing of parliamentary candidates in a tightly controlled process.

All these acts fostered resentment within the ruling party. The cracks became manifest with the 6 October detention and disappearance of CCM stalwart Humphrey Polepole. Formerly the ruling party’s secretary for ideology, Polepole resigned from his position as ambassador to Cuba and issued a number of videos decrying what he called poor leadership and state repression in Tanzania. Upon his return to the country in the first week of October, a video surfaced of armed men dragging a heavily bloodied Polepole from his home. He has not been seen since. As Crisis Group reported at the time, that incident and the wave of other abductions augured ill for the vote to come.

Tanzania has for years fallen short of being a true electoral democracy, but its elections have nonetheless been meaningful. Since multi-party politics were introduced in 1992, the ruling party has generally allowed the opposition to campaign. Though CCM always wins the presidential vote, opposition parties have routinely claimed a sizeable share of parliamentary seats and have gradually used that platform to challenge government policies and demand reform. As noted above, the window for representative politics began to close under Magufuli. But it was Suluhu who slammed it shut, taking away what little space remained for competitive elections.

By mid-2024, the Suluhu government was already steadily intensifying its repression of opposition figures, activists and the media in the run-up to local elections later that year. The main opposition party CHADEMA was a particular target: dozens of party officials disappeared, apparently at the hands of the intelligence and security services. Some were killed. According to Human Rights Watch, authorities “arbitrarily arrested hundreds of opposition supporters, imposed restrictions on social media access, banned independent media and (were) implicated in the abduction and extra-judicial killing of at least eight government critics”. Electoral officials declared that the CCM had won 99.01 per cent of the vote, leaving little doubt that the authorities would squelch any effort to hold a free presidential vote in the following year.

Seeing the writing on the wall, in April, CHADEMA leader Tundu Lissu declared that his party would boycott the presidential and parliamentary elections. Under the banner of “No Reforms, No Elections”, he argued that a credible vote was impossible absent electoral reform. For example, he pointed out that local elections had been held under the ambit of the Regional Administration and Local Government Department in the president’s office, which is headed by Suluhu’s son-in-law Mohamed Omary Mchengerwa.

Following his call for a boycott, Lissu was arrested and charged with treason, an offence that can carry the death penalty. His trial is under way, and he remains behind bars. Two months after his detention, a court order barred CHADEMA from conducting political activities, which in effect prevented party figures from campaigning. In addition, in September, authorities nullified the nomination of Luhaga Mpina to be the presidential candidate for the second-biggest opposition party, ACT-Wazalendo, on procedural grounds. Mpina had defected from the CCM in 2024 because he, too, disagreed with the party’s trajectory. 

The pre-election period saw an intensified crackdown. Between 1-9 October, thirteen CHADEMA officials were taken from their homes but never brought before the courts. Hundreds of youth suspected of agitating against the authorities were also rounded up. By election day, 600 officials, party members and young people were in detention for a variety of supposed infractions disturbing public order. Ruling-party officials thus expected to gain an easy mandate for Suluhu in what they thought would be a largely ceremonial vote on 29 October.

Tanzanians, especially youthful protesters but also many older voters who chose to stay home, had other ideas. For weeks before the election, organising online, activists had urged people to boycott the elections and to hold demonstrations on polling day. Their call was widely heeded. When the day arrived, pictures and videos of empty polling stations began circulating. Despite warnings from government and security figures, youth took to the streets, first in parts of Dar es Salaam, the country’s largest city and commercial hub. Demonstrations soon spread to other parts of the country, including the cities of Arusha, Mbeya, Mwanza and Tanga, as well as the Namanga border crossing with Kenya. Many villages that had never witnessed unrest in the past also saw marches, illustrating the breadth of discontent with Suluhu and her administration.

The situation escalated when protesters began attacking polling stations, police stations, government buildings and properties associated with the ruling elite. The police reacted with fury, opening fire on crowds in urban areas such as Dar es Salaam, Arusha, Mwanza and Mbeya. In an effort to assert control, the government imposed a nighttime curfew in Dar es Salaam, but it did not work. Protests continued the following day both there and elsewhere as the government shuttered schools and instructed civil servants to work from home.

Then things went from bad to worse. A countrywide internet shutdown set the stage for four days of horrific events that unfolded from the night of 30 October. As the ban gradually began lifting on 3 November, accounts emerged of a campaign of retributive, arbitrary killings that seemingly targeted anyone on whom the police laid their sights in neighbourhoods that had seen protests. The methods they used – with police going door to door and shooting mostly young men inside or outside their homes – shocked many in Tanzania and beyond. The electoral commission meanwhile declared that Suluhu had won 98 per cent of the vote, with an 87 per cent turnout – notwithstanding all evidence that the boycott had been highly successful.

The appalling death toll deepened public anger. International media geolocated videos and photos shared by Tanzanians on social media pinpointing where summary executions had taken place on the streets as well as piles of bodies in or near hospitals and in villages. Reports emerged of trucks taking bodies away from mortuaries to unknown destinations, likely for burial in mass graves or to be otherwise disposed of. Many families were left trying to establish the fate of their loved ones by sifting through gruesome images circulating on social media. A photo of a father burying his son’s favourite clothes and shoes went viral. The testimony of a club manager who lost seven of the young footballers on his team but could find only one body likewise drew wide attention. Human rights groups estimate that about 3,000 were killed in what they call a “state-engineered massacre”.

Strong local and international condemnation followed. Tanzania’s Catholic bishops condemned “these murderous and brutal killings of our youth and others” and called for investigations.

Unusually, continental bodies that rarely criticise African governments sharply rebuked Tanzania. On 3 November, observers from the Southern African Development Community (SADC) released a preliminary statement describing Tanzania’s electoral body as “compromised from inception”. The SADC mission also said “in most areas, voters could not express their democratic will”, noting that some SADC officials had been questioned by security agents and forced to delete photographs taken at polling stations. Two days later, the African Union’s election observers declared that the election “did not comply with” AU standards, saying they had been forced out of polling stations before counting was concluded. Presidents from neighbouring Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda and South Africa skipped Suluhu’s inauguration. South Africa’s former President Thabo Mbeki issued a statement through his foundation saying Tanzania “currently lacks a legitimate government”. Mbeki, an important voice in South Africa, lived briefly in Tanzania as an exiled anti-apartheid activist and has retained strong ties in the country. 

The astonishing police brutality and the deeply compromised electoral process has left authorities in Tanzania’s capital, Dodoma, feeling the heat. Tanzanians are still stunned by the unprecedented wave of violence in a country that – apart from the semi-autonomous Zanzibar archipelago, where elections are often fiercely contested and the results often disputed – has long been known for calm. 

Since the elections and the bloody aftermath, Suluhu has tried to turn the page. On 3 November, she was sworn in at a military parade ground in Dodoma that was inaccessible to the public. After accusing “foreign” actors of involvement in the unrest, in a veiled reference to activists in neighbouring Kenya who amplified calls for demonstrations in the run-up to the vote, she made an effort to strike a more conciliatory tone – promising on 14 November to establish a commission to investigate election-related violence. In a remarkably tin-eared move, however, Suluhu then named a cabinet with her son-in-law as health minister and her daughter as deputy education minister. Her ally Kikwete’s son will serve as minister in the president’s office. These steps further infuriated Tanzanians, given that Suluhu has already earned a reputation for cronyism based on the power wielded by her son Abdul Halim Hafidh Ameir, who has no official title but is said to exercise considerable influence over state institutions.   

Tanzanian authorities’ efforts to project normality have thus far fallen short. The scale and viciousness of the killings means that this blood-drenched episode has shattered public confidence in the ruling party and its president, who many now see as illegitimate. Protesters are therefore planning to press their case. Online, activists have summoned their networks to engage in peaceful protests across the country on 9 December, the day when Tanzanians would normally be commemorating the country’s liberation from British colonial rule. The authorities’ response – cancelling traditional celebrations in a bid to empty the streets – is a humiliating step to have to take. 

What will happen on 9 December remains a question mark. Would-be demonstrators may be deterred by patrolling officers and the prospect of further state violence. But if there are protests, it will be incumbent on the government to avoid repeating the post-election moment. More such violence would be a humanitarian disaster with implications for a region that has traditionally seen Tanzania as a haven for refugees in a troubled corner of the continent. The government should issue clear instructions to the police and intelligence services, notorious for acting with impunity, not to use disproportionate force, stipulating that violators will be held accountable. If certain units stray out of line, the authorities will need to make an immediate example of them, removing them from duty and launching judicial processes. Neighbouring governments that enjoy good relations with Tanzania, including South Africa, Uganda and Kenya, should urge Suluhu to emphasise this message of non-violence and accountability above all else. Protesters, too, should stay within the bounds of the law, avoiding acts of vandalism, attacks on state institutions or other violence.

Suluhu should also make clear, ideally in advance of 9 December, that she is fully committed to a transparent investigation into the events of the past few weeks. The nine-member team she named to probe the post-election crisis, which consists of former government officials, is unlikely to assuage concerns among members of the public who fear that the body will not be independent and will facilitate a cover-up. One way to boost confidence would be to reconstitute the team to add independent figures such as religious leaders as well as representatives from the Tanzania Law Society and the country’s medical association. Their remit should be expanded from merely finding facts to include eventual accountability for those who ordered the killings.

Something must also be done to help the many Tanzanians who languish in detention on flimsy and politically motivated charges. Suluhu ordered the release of 139 people in the second week of November. Hundreds of others remain in jail, however. Anyone not accused of violent offences based on credible evidence should be freed immediately, with charges dropped. One such person is CHADEMA leader Lissu, who is behind bars for nothing but discharging his duties as a member of the political opposition. The police and intelligence services, who likely know the whereabouts of many of the Tanzanians disappeared over the past two years, should endeavour to return them to their families, along with any bodies they continue to hold.

Mustering external pressure on the authorities will not be easy. Like many African countries, Tanzania has built ties with a number of non-Western powers such as China, Türkiye and the United Arab Emirates, which are all now major partners and investors. With a few exceptions, the international response to events in Tanzania has been muted. That should change, not least because several outside actors have means of swaying the Tanzanian authorities. The European Union, for example, could bring useful pressure to bear given that its member states send many tourists to Tanzania. Brussels should send private messages to the authorities that further massacres will bring consequences, including possibly targeted sanctions for those involved, and that more general restrictions could follow.

There are signs of progress. In a welcome step, the U.S. State Department on 4 December said it would engage in a comprehensive review of U.S. relations with Tanzania in light of “disturbing violence” against civilians in the days before and after the elections. Ireland and Denmark, as well as members of the U.S. Senate, the European Parliament and the UN Office for Human Rights, have also weighed in critically.

In addition to warding off further near-term violence, Tanzania’s external partners should look beyond the immediate moment. While avoiding another pulse of violence, and redressing recent wrongs, is the most urgent priority, political reform is also needed. Tanzania today is for all intents and purposes a one-party authoritarian state dressed up as a democracy. All major constitutional office-holders are presidential appointees, meaning trust in those institutions, especially those involved in electoral competition such as the electoral commission and the judiciary, is low to non-existent. Tanzania is also one of the few countries on the continent whose law declares that the outcome of presidential elections cannot be challenged in the courts. In the medium term, it needs to join the ranks of African countries that have updated the constitution to allow for genuine electoral competition and to kindle independent institutions such as the judiciary, parliament and a free media and civil society. 

It is a tall order, but there is certainly public support. Tanzanians have campaigned for constitutional changes for decades. In 2012, in the face of renewed clamour for a constitutional review, former President Kikwete appointed a commission helmed by a respected judge, Joseph Warioba, to recommend changes to the national charter. After months of work, a draft constitution was written, but it was never adopted. That failure contributed to the chronic lack of faith in institutions that led the youth to turn to the streets to demand change. This instability will continue until the CCM leadership shows greater flexibility and allows for a system that can give the public a chance to express their electoral choices via credible formal institutions. Neighbouring Kenya took just that path of reform following its own post-election crisis in 2007-2008.   

Tanzania is at a crossroads. Its leaders have long ignored the grievances of a youth cohort enduring chronically high unemployment in one of Africa’s most resource-rich countries while seeing the ruling-party elite divide the spoils of power among themselves. By turning out in the thousands for protests, Tanzanians sent a clear message that their patience with the country’s illiberal, top-down political system is running out. The response to such deepening public frustration should not be more repression, but an acknowledgement by one of Africa’s longest-serving independence-era parties in power that the time for change has come.