By Justin Kirangacha| The Common Pulse/latest news /US/ Kenya/Abroad/Africa / NOVEMBER2025.
When Tanzania’s National Electoral Commission announced that President Samia Suluhu Hassan had secured an overwhelming 97–98% of the vote in her reelection, the country was immediately plunged into a heated debate over the credibility of the process and the future of its democracy. While the ruling party, Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM), celebrated the result as a reflection of the people’s trust in Suluhu’s leadership and her steady hand in navigating both domestic and regional politics, opposition parties, civil society groups, and international observers voiced deep skepticism. They questioned whether such a staggering margin could truly represent the will of a diverse and politically aware nation or whether it symbolized a tightening grip of power under the guise of stability and continuity
To understand the magnitude of the controversy, one must look beyond the final figures and into the atmosphere in which the election took place. Tanzania has long been dominated by the CCM since independence, and while the party boasts an impressive record of maintaining peace and continuity, its hold on power has often been accused of stifling political pluralism. The election that returned Samia Suluhu to power was no exception. In the months leading up to the vote, opposition rallies were restricted, media houses faced increased scrutiny, and civil society organizations reported an atmosphere of fear and suppression. Critics argued that the environment was neither free nor fair, that voter intimidation and institutional bias were embedded in the process long before ballots were even cast.
Samia Suluhu entered this election as a figure of both hope and caution. Her initial rise to power, following the death of John Magufuli in 2021, had been marked by a refreshing tone of reconciliation. She freed political prisoners, reopened some banned media outlets, and initiated dialogue with opposition figures. Many saw her as a reformer willing to move Tanzania away from the authoritarian excesses of her predecessor. But as the campaign season unfolded, the tone shifted dramatically. CCM’s machinery roared back to life with the full weight of state institutions behind it. The opposition, still recovering from years of harassment, was ill-prepared to mount an effective challenge. Key leaders like Tundu Lissu and Zitto Kabwe alleged harassment, media censorship, and manipulation of electoral rolls. By the time voting day arrived, the outcome seemed almost predetermined.
The official narrative from CCM painted a picture of overwhelming national unity behind Suluhu’s leadership. Her supporters argued that her performance in stabilizing the economy, managing post-Magufuli political transitions, and maintaining Tanzania’s diplomatic poise on the global stage earned her broad-based support. They pointed to infrastructural achievements, the expansion of health services, and the revival of tourism after COVID-19 as evidence of genuine popularity. According to government figures, her policies improved investor confidence and reduced inflation, while her diplomatic engagement restored Tanzania’s standing in the East African Community. These were all legitimate accomplishments, and even her critics concede that she managed to calm tensions within the ruling elite and project a more inclusive tone internationally.
Yet the question remains, can a democratic election in a competitive political landscape yield a 97% result without raising suspicions? Tanzania’s political history suggests otherwise. Such margins are rare even in one-party states and almost unheard of in functioning democracies. The optics alone suggest imbalance. Opposition parties, particularly CHADEMA and ACT-Wazalendo, immediately rejected the results, calling the process a “manufactured victory.” Their leaders claimed that in several regions, particularly Zanzibar, Pemba, and Arusha, their polling agents were barred from observing vote counts, ballot boxes were stuffed, and independent tallying was obstructed. International observers, though limited in number, echoed concerns about transparency, restricted access to polling stations, and the absence of genuine competition.
The credibility crisis is not only about numbers but about perception. Elections are as much about legitimacy as they are about results, and legitimacy cannot be manufactured through statistics alone. For many Tanzanians, particularly the younger generation that has grown up in an increasingly connected world, democracy means more than procedural voting. It means accountability, openness, and the real possibility of change. The idea that one leader or one party could command near-unanimous support seems inconsistent with the lived realities of a country grappling with economic inequality, youth unemployment, and regional disparities. When such overwhelming victories occur in the absence of robust opposition participation, they risk being read not as triumphs of leadership but as symptoms of democratic decay.
What makes this election particularly contentious is the duality of Samia Suluhu’s image. Internationally, she is celebrated as East Africa’s first female head of state, a soft-spoken yet firm leader who broke barriers and reintroduced dialogue into Tanzania’s governance. She has been praised by global organizations for advancing women’s participation in politics, expanding social services, and improving Tanzania’s diplomatic relations. But domestically, her administration stands accused of leveraging state power to entrench the CCM’s dominance under a gentler, more polished veneer. Many Tanzanians describe this as “soft authoritarianism”, a system where repression is subtle but effective, where democratic language masks deep structural control.
The opposition’s rejection of the election results has been met with a predictable mix of official dismissal and public fatigue. The government insists the election was peaceful, that turnout was high, and that any irregularities were minor and did not affect the outcome. Yet, beneath this calm narrative lies a simmering sense of disillusionment. Opposition supporters feel increasingly powerless, while neutral citizens, those who might have once believed in gradual reform, are losing faith in electoral politics as a vehicle for change. In a country where the same party has ruled uninterrupted for over six decades, such disillusionment is dangerous. It erodes not only faith in elections but also in governance itself.
The broader implications extend beyond Tanzania’s borders. As East Africa grapples with questions of democratic backsliding, Tanzania’s experience mirrors a regional pattern. Uganda’s Yoweri Museveni, Rwanda’s Paul Kagame, and Burundi’s Evariste Ndayishimiye have all maintained near-total control through elections with questionable competitiveness. The optics of overwhelming victories and subdued opposition have become a common political language in the region. For the international community, particularly Western partners who value stability over confrontation, there is a delicate balance between congratulating Suluhu’s win and acknowledging the democratic deficits that accompany it. Many fear that too much criticism might push Tanzania toward isolation or renewed authoritarian rigidity, while silence risks normalizing electoral manipulation.
In the aftermath of the election, Tanzanian civil society stands at a crossroads. Activists and youth movements are beginning to ask difficult questions about the meaning of democracy in a context where power rarely changes hands. Some are advocating for constitutional reforms to strengthen the independence of the electoral commission and judiciary, others call for decentralization of power and greater civic participation. These discussions reflect a growing awareness that true democracy requires more than elections, it requires institutions strong enough to check those in power, and a citizenry empowered enough to demand accountability.
Samia Suluhu now faces a profound test. Her legitimacy, though formally secured through the ballot box, depends on how she governs in the years ahead. If she uses her overwhelming victory as a mandate for reconciliation, reform, and genuine openness, she could reshape Tanzania’s political trajectory and restore faith in its democratic institutions. But if she doubles down on consolidation, silences dissent, and continues to treat the opposition as a nuisance rather than a necessary democratic partner, she risks squandering both domestic and international goodwill. Her next steps, particularly in dealing with media freedom, opposition rights, and judicial independence, will determine whether this victory marks a new beginning or a slow entrenchment of one-party dominance.
Ultimately, the contested legitimacy of Samia Suluhu’s reelection is a reflection of Tanzania’s unfinished democratic journey. The country stands at the intersection of progress and regression, of promise and peril. The people’s yearning for stability must not come at the cost of freedom, and their desire for development must not eclipse their right to choose their leaders in a fair contest. Elections are not merely rituals of legitimacy, they are expressions of collective power. Until that power is genuinely shared, no margin, however overwhelming, will silence the questions now echoing through Tanzania’s streets, its campuses, and its courtrooms. The story of this election, like the nation itself, remains unwritten, shaped by the courage of those who continue to demand that democracy mean more than victory.
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