When Elders Speak, Tanzania Should Hear Wisdom—Not Ask Them to Whisper

By Adonis Byemelwa

The message from the 2026 national conference of the Tanzania Men’s Elders Association (CCWWT) in Dodoma was clear: elders should use their experience to strengthen social harmony, mentor younger generations and preserve national values.

Opening the conference on behalf of the government, Minister of State Prof Riziki Shemdoe urged them to rise above activism and remain a source of wisdom and reconciliation.

It is a reasonable call, but it raises a larger question. If elders are valued for their wisdom, should that wisdom stop speaking when it challenges power, questions policy or demands constitutional reform?

An elder who mediates a family dispute serves society. So does an elder who tells a government that it is losing its way. The two roles are not contradictory; indeed, a mature democracy needs both.

Tanzania’s political history offers powerful examples of elders whose authority has come precisely from their willingness to speak when silence would have been easier. Their experience shows that growing older does not mean retiring from citizenship or surrendering independent judgement.

Judge Joseph Sinde Warioba remains one of the clearest examples. His contribution to constitutional debate has been grounded not in political agitation but in decades of public service, legal experience and institutional responsibility.

As chairman of the Constitutional Review Commission, Warioba helped lead a national process that gathered Tanzanians’ views on the country’s constitutional future. His continued engagement with constitutional questions demonstrates that retirement from office need not mean retirement from public responsibility.

Prof Issa Shivji represents another tradition: the elder intellectual who has refused to exchange independent thought for political comfort. For decades, his scholarship and public interventions have examined the relationship between power, law, democracy and constitutionalism.

His importance lies not in agreeing with everyone, but in demonstrating why societies need independent minds. A country that respects elders only when they confirm the official narrative is not necessarily respecting wisdom; it may simply be rewarding conformity.

Joseph Butiku belongs to a similar tradition of institutional experience and critical reflection. His interventions on leadership, constitutionalism and accountability have shown that service to the state does not require unconditional approval of every decision made by those in authority.

This is where the debate over elders becomes more complicated. There is a difference between an elder who seeks attention and one who accepts the burden of telling an uncomfortable truth.

There is also a difference between partisan activism driven by personal ambition and civic engagement driven by conscience. The more important question, therefore, is not whether elders speak, but what they are speaking for.

If activism means chasing political office, manufacturing controversy or exploiting public status for personal influence, elders should rise above it. Nonetheless, if civic engagement means defending constitutionalism, demanding accountability, protecting human dignity and warning against national danger, silence is hardly a virtue.

Tanzania has seen religious leaders occupy this difficult space. Bishop Benson Bagonza has repeatedly spoken on governance, democracy, human rights and national responsibility, sometimes entering territory that makes those in authority uncomfortable.

Bishop Frederick Shoo has likewise spoken about freedom, fear and public responsibility during periods of political tension. Such interventions show that religious and community elders can provide a moral voice when many citizens may hesitate to speak.

The lesson is not that elders should become permanent opponents of government. It is that they should retain the independence to tell the truth while remaining responsible for the consequences of their words.

That distinction matters because political systems can reward loyalty when loyalty is quietly redefined as agreement. Public figures may become more cautious as the cost of criticism rises, while others may become more accommodating as proximity to power becomes more attractive.

Neither development should automatically be interpreted as cowardice or betrayal. People respond differently to political pressure, changing circumstances and competing responsibilities. But societies inevitably judge public conduct by the principles people appear to defend over time.

Public memory can therefore be unforgiving. Citizens may disagree with an elder and still respect the person; what damages credibility is the perception that principles change whenever political circumstances change.

The public may forgive an elder for being wrong. It is less likely to forgive what it perceives as the abandonment of principle.

That is why the distinction between loyalty and sycophancy deserves serious attention. Loyalty to Tanzania does not require loyalty to every government decision.

Loyalty to the nation can mean supporting good policy, challenging bad policy and warning against decisions that could burden future generations. The nation is larger than its government, and governments are temporary custodians of a much older national inheritance.

Prof Anna Tibaijuka offers an important example of an elder who has remained publicly engaged. She has continued to speak on difficult national questions, including constitutional reform and the political environment surrounding opposition figures.

Veteran journalist, lawyer and activist Jenerali Ulimwengu represents another tradition of public courage: standing on his toes to speak truth, even when doing so is uncomfortable. Such voices remind Tanzania that public service does not end with age.

Warioba has spoken from institutional experience; Shivji from scholarship; religious leaders from moral authority; Tibaijuka from public service; and Ulimwengu from journalism, law and civic engagement. To place all these voices under the single label of “activism” is to miss important differences.

Constitutional questions do not become less legitimate because older citizens raise them. Elders possess something younger generations cannot always provide: long memory. They remember political transitions and how institutions behave when pressure tests them.

That memory can be a national asset, but only when accompanied by courage, independence and responsibility. Tanzania needs elders who resist both political conformity and opposition for its own sake.

The country does not need elders who approve everything, nor those who condemn everything. It needs elders who can say yes when government is right, no when government is wrong, and wait when the country is moving towards danger.

That is not activism; it is independence of judgement. Without it, experience becomes decoration, wisdom becomes ceremony, and public service becomes memory.

Prof Shemdoe is right to ask elders to promote reconciliation, mentor young people, preserve national values and strengthen social harmony. But society must also allow them to ask difficult questions; otherwise, their wisdom risks becoming ornamental.

Tanzania needs elders who can advise the young, mediate disputes and preserve traditions, but also remind the powerful that institutions matter, constitutions matter, and citizens matter.

This is why Warioba, Shivji, Butiku, Bagonza, Shoo, Tibaijuka and Ulimwengu matter. They represent different backgrounds and arguments, but share one possibility: that age can deepen public responsibility rather than extinguish it.

For CCWWT, that is the deeper challenge arising from its 2026 conference. The association need not choose between wisdom and civic engagement; it must show that both can coexist without partisan capture or political intimidation.

A country that asks its elders to provide wisdom must also be prepared to hear it when it is inconvenient. Otherwise, it is not really asking for wisdom; it is asking for approval. So let elders be Tanzania’s voice of wisdom. But let that wisdom have a voice in a changing Tanzania today, a voice courageous enough to challenge power, defend truth, protect constitutionalism and speak for generations yet unborn, without fear or favour.