By Adonis
Byemelwa
President Samia Suluhu Hassan’s
end-of-year address, which closed 2025, was delivered in a calm, deliberate
register, intended to steady a nation emerging from one of its most emotionally
charged and politically fraught years in recent memory.
Her tone was measured, her
cadence reassuring, and her language carefully chosen to emphasise continuity
rather than rupture. In a year marked by anxiety, confrontation, and unresolved
questions, the address appeared designed to restore equilibrium rather than
provoke debate.
“As we bid farewell to this
year, I call upon every Tanzanian to safeguard peace, unity and solidarity,”
she said, reminding citizens that “our strength as a nation has always been our
ability to remain united even in times of challenge.”
She thanked Tanzanians for what
she described as quiet resilience through a challenging year, acknowledging
patience and endurance that kept daily life moving despite political and
economic strain. Law enforcement and security agencies received particular
praise for carrying heavy responsibilities, alongside an appeal to maintain
professionalism and respect for citizens’ rights.
The President then turned to
development, emphasising stability as the foundation upon which progress
depends. Roads, ports, energy projects, and social services, she argued, must
be protected from political turbulence if national gains are to be sustained.
She reaffirmed commitments to
economic strengthening, regional trade, and fiscal discipline, while restating
that constitutional reform remained on the agenda, to be pursued carefully and
inclusively.
Acknowledging rainfall shortages
in parts of the country in October and wider global economic pressures, she
nonetheless expressed confidence in Tanzania’s capacity to recover through
investment and cooperation.
On paper, the speech followed a
familiar and disciplined arc. Nevertheless, for many listeners, the calm,
forward-looking tone collided sharply with unresolved pain.
That tension lingered long after
the broadcast ended. Within hours, what was meant as reassurance had ignited a
national conversation that stretched far beyond social media.
In buses stalled in Dar es
Salaam traffic, in student hostels in Arusha, in markets in Mbeya and Morogoro,
and in village meetings across Singida and Tabora, Tanzanians debated not only
what the President had said, but what she had left unsaid.
Central to the backlash was the
President’s silence on allegations of enforced disappearances. Throughout 2025,
families and human rights groups raised alarms over activists and political
figures reported missing under unclear circumstances.
While the address warned that “no grievance
should be addressed through violence or chaos,” relatives of the missing felt
erased by the absence of acknowledgement.
Online, names such as Boniface
Mwangi and Said Kibanya circulated alongside pleas for answers, revealing fear
that had not yet found language within official narratives.
The October 29 general elections
formed the second, and perhaps most explosive, fault line. Election day
violence left civilians dead and many others injured in clashes witnessed and
recorded across the country.
Nevertheless, the address made
no direct reference to those killings. When the President said, “Our democratic
journey has not been without challenges, but we must choose dialogue over
division,” families who had buried loved ones heard avoidance rather than
healing. The omission hardened perceptions that accountability was being
deferred in favour of stability.
Young people responded with
particular intensity. University students and first-time voters, many of whom
had experienced arrests, intimidation, or the loss of peers, argued that
repeated calls for patience felt like demands for silence.
In Dar es Salaam, commuters voiced similar
frustrations, questioning whether leadership fully grasped the cost-of-living
pressures shaping daily life. Traders and small business owners in regional
towns echoed this sense of distance, asking in radio call-in programmes,
“Progress for whom?”
Opposition parties accused the
President of missing an opportunity to confront political wounds directly,
arguing that unity cannot be commanded without addressing repression and
disputed outcomes.
Civil society organisations
echoed this view more cautiously, warning that peace without justice remains
fragile. Analysts noted that the unusually intense reaction to a ceremonial
address suggested a more profound rupture between state messaging and lived
experience.
That rupture widened when former
Chief Justice Joseph Sinde Warioba, in an interview with veteran journalist
Jackton Manyerere of Jamhuri, reportedly remarked
that civilians killed during the October elections exceeded those lost during
the 1978–79 war with Idi Amin’s Uganda.
The comparison, shocking to
many, spread rapidly. Warioba called for honesty and accountability, warning
that “a nation that refuses to face the truth condemns itself to repeat its
mistakes.” Praise for his courage was matched by sharp criticism, particularly
from commentators accusing him of exaggeration or bias.
The controversy soon engulfed Jamhuri
itself. Managing Editor Deodatus Balile later announced the suspension of print
publication, citing a cash crisis and an outstanding government debt of Tsh300
million.
To critics, the timing felt ominous; to
government supporters, it was purely financial. Either way, it intensified
concerns about shrinking media space.
Religious voices added moral
weight. Catholic bishops urged leaders to listen to citizens’ suffering and
prioritise truth and reconciliation, warning that unaddressed injustice
threatens cohesion.
Many faith leaders rejected
attempts by some commentators to frame the debate along religious lines, yet
their emergence underscored how fragile social trust had become.
It was within this atmosphere
that Bishop Josphat Gwajima of Glory of Christ Church re-emerged into public
debate.
Following the temporary closure
of his church under unexplained circumstances and its later reopening by the
government, Gwajima spoke forcefully against abductions.
Using widely circulated language, he insisted
that “abductions must stop” and warned that silence corrodes the national
conscience.
His intervention resonated
because it bridged faith, fear, and civic responsibility, articulating what
many felt but hesitated to say publicly.
Supporters of President Samia
pushed back, arguing that the address was never intended to catalogue
grievances.
They praised her steady
leadership and repeated assertion that “without peace, no development is
possible.”
Even among supporters, however,
there was recognition that the national mood was restless. In rural areas,
farmers spoke quietly of rising input costs, climate pressures, and uncertain
markets. The optimistic national story felt distant.
By week’s end, the address had
become a mirror reflecting a divided nation. Universities hosted debates,
newspapers published sharply opposing views, and social media remained ablaze.
What was meant to close 2025
instead opened a deeper conversation about accountability, trust, and the
meaning of unity.
The backlash revealed a simple
truth: unity cannot be declared into existence. It must be built through
acknowledgement, dialogue, and visible accountability. How leadership responds
now may define Tanzania’s road ahead.