Tanzania’s politics are heating up again, and this time it feels like the stakes are higher than they’ve ever been. East Africa’s stable democracy is now being tested. A feud between the ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi(CCM) and the opposition Chama Cha Demokrasia na Maendeleo(Chadema) refuses to go away. The cracks are showing. The noise is loud. The silence of those in power speaks more than the speeches they make.
At the center of it all is Tundu Lissu. For years he has been the face of defiance. He is the politician who survived an assassination try. He came back to demand reforms with a voice that refuses to be silenced. His slogan “No Reforms, No Elections” has cut straight through the political talk. To some it’s reckless, but to many it’s the only honest line in the whole political script. Lissu says reforms must come first—an independent electoral commission, fair ground rules, real transparency—or else Tanzania is fooling itself. For saying that, he now faces treason charges. It is hard to miss the irony of a man being dragged into court for demanding fairness.
The opposition has already been kicked out of the elections. They were disqualified because they refused to sign a so-called code of ethics. They refused to join in a game. In this game, the referee, the rulebook, and even the scoreboard are owned by the ruling party. It was a trap disguised as procedure, and Chadema called it out. Instead of fixing the trap, the government slammed the door.
Meanwhile, the space for free politics has narrowed again. Opposition rallies are being blocked. Critics find themselves in police custody. Churches that dare to question government moves are shut down, like Gwajima’s. Journalists are walking on eggshells. For citizens, the feeling is that President Samia Suluhu Hassan’s early promises of openness have faded. It appeared that there would be a break from Magufuli’s iron rule. Still, it is starting to look like the same book with a different cover.
And this is where the danger lies. Elections are supposed to be about choice. Without a credible opposition, what’s left is just ceremony. People will go to the polls, votes will be counted, and CCM will declare victory. But victory without legitimacy is an empty crown. Tanzanians are not blind. They can see when the outcome is already decided before the ballot is cast.
Lissu’s trial is a test of more than one man’s fate. It’s a test of whether the justice system in Tanzania is still a place where truth matters. It also questions if it has become just another weapon in the hands of the powerful. If his case drags on with endless delays, the public will become skeptical. If evidence is hidden from public view, skepticism will deepen. It won’t matter how many times the government insists on fairness. The perception will be set: the system is rigged, and anyone who speaks up risks being buried by it.
This isn’t just about politics. It’s about faith. This isn’t religious faith. It’s faith in the idea that your voice counts. You can change something by lining up at a polling station. Take that away, and what’s left? A country where citizens keep quiet because they know nothing will change. Or worse, a country where citizens decide ballots don’t matter anymore and look for other ways to be heard. Silence may look like peace, but it is not. It is frustration bottled up, waiting for a spark.
Tanzania stands at a crossroads. The ruling party can either open the space and let democracy breathe. Or they can continue tightening its grip until there is no oxygen left. They can show confidence by allowing fair competition, or they can show fear by criminalizing it. But they should know this—fear doesn’t last forever. Systems built on fear eventually collapse, and when they do, the people in charge are never ready for the fallout.
The feud between CCM and Chadema is not a passing quarrel. It is the battle that will decide what Tanzanian democracy means for the next generation. Either it becomes a democracy in name only. In this scenario, elections are theater and criticism is a crime. Or it becomes a democracy where power can shift. In this case, rules can be trusted and the ballot means something. The choice is still there, but the clock is ticking.