By Adonis Byemelwa
In the sweltering June heat of Dar es Salaam, retired President Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete stood before a room of legal minds, civil society leaders, and political observers at the National Legal Symposium, calling for accountability, unity, and fairness as Tanzania approaches its critical 2025 general election.
It was vintage Kikwete: composed, charismatic, and politically polished. On 21st June, 2025 he urged the Electoral Commission, political leaders, and citizens to uphold integrity and play their part to ensure free and fair elections. But as his words echoed through the Julius Nyerere International Convention Centre, a very different conversation was raging online.
Social media lit up almost immediately. “Cosmetic reforms won’t cut it,” tweeted activist Salma K. “We need real change, not speeches.” Dozens echoed her sentiment.
The new election laws—hailed by the government as landmark achievements—are widely viewed as insufficient, particularly after the November 2024 civic elections, which were marred by reports of voter suppression, opaque results, and limited access for opposition parties. The reforms, critics say, fall far short of what’s needed to clean up an electoral system plagued by structural flaws.
Kikwete’s call for unity and national cohesion was met with a mix of nostalgia and frustration. Many Tanzanians remember his presidency (2005–2015) as a period of relatively broader political space compared to today.
Then, opposition rallies happened with fewer restrictions, media outlets had room to breathe, and civil society could challenge state narratives without immediate blowback. Today, however, the civic space is noticeably tighter.
“It’s like watching your cool uncle start defending the family secrets,” posted Ernest Mlay, a political blogger based in Mbeya. “We loved Kikwete because he gave us room. But now, he sounds like part of the machinery.”
Indeed, many online are questioning Kikwete’s proximity to President Samia Suluhu Hassan’s administration. To some, it feels like he’s now part of the inner circle, maintaining a system he once helped liberalize. The irony hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“Kikwete is trending not for saying something bold, but for sounding like a government spokesperson,” observed Aisha Ramadhani on X (formerly Twitter). “He’s reminding us to behave—meanwhile, the playing field is tilted.”
A deeper look at the reforms reveals why critics are unconvinced. The two laws passed in 2024—The Presidential, Parliamentary, and Local Government Elections Act No. 1 of 2024 and the Independent National Electoral Commission Act No. 2 of 2024—have been touted as game-changers.
Yet, analysts point out that they fall short on core demands long championed by the opposition and civil society. Chief among them: real independence of the electoral commission.
Currently, the President retains excessive influence over the appointment of commissioners and the structure of the commission itself. That, says Boniface Mwabukusi, President of the Tanganyika Law Society, is a deal-breaker. “There can be no credible elections where the referee is picked by one of the teams,” Mwabukusi remarked during a panel discussion at one of the symposia. “Until we separate the commission from executive influence, everything else is public relations.”
It’s a view shared by Tundu Lissu, a long-time opposition figure who, from exile and through digital channels, continues to push the reform agenda with fervor. “No reforms, no elections,” he declared in a recent interview. “We’re not walking into another charade.”
Across the border, even Kenyans are chiming in. On Facebook, a Kenyan user sarcastically commented, “Tanzania’s Electoral Commission is ‘independent’ the same way a fish is independent in a frying pan.” The shade is unmistakable—and telling. While East African neighbors grapple with their democratic issues, Tanzania is increasingly viewed as taking two steps back, one step forward.
At the heart of the criticism is a simple truth: electoral reforms need more than ink and paper. They require political will. The kind that comes with courage to share power, not just call for calm and accountability in public forums. And that, many believe, is still lacking.
Interestingly, Kikwete’s reminder that “every election stakeholder must be accountable” fell flat to some ears. “We’re accountable, but the system isn’t,” noted Twitter user and political science graduate Moses Ngunjiri. “How can voters trust a process that’s already skewed before the first ballot is cast?”
Even the Police Force didn’t escape scrutiny. Kikwete’s call for fair policing during elections was interpreted by some as an indirect admission that it has not always been the case.
Human rights observers and political parties have long accused police of being selectively aggressive—quick to disperse opposition rallies while offering state party events free rein.
Despite the skepticism, the symposium did attract those still hoping for change through dialogue. Hamza S. Johari, Attorney General and patron of the Government Lawyers Association, emphasized the need for civic education.
“Through this symposium, citizens will understand the legal changes and engage meaningfully in 2025,” he said. But even his statement was met with cynicism online. “How can people engage in a process that is broken by design?” one user posted.
The bigger question hovering over Kikwete’s remarks is this: Can moral persuasion fix a system designed to serve those in power? Or are these speeches just lubricants to keep the same machinery running smoothly?
For many Tanzanians, the answer lies not in panels or podiums, but in the lived reality of political suppression, manipulated institutions, and a sense of déjà vu every election cycle. The call for real change is not about opposing the government—it’s about restoring faith in democracy. And for that, speeches alone won’t do.
With 2025 fast approaching, the message from social media, opposition voices, and sharp-minded critics across Tanzania couldn’t be clearer: don’t mistake half-baked reforms for genuine change. People are growing weary of empty promises that fail to address the deep-rooted issues.
Until the country frees itself from the entrenched grip of state control over electoral institutions, real progress will remain out of reach, no matter how often former presidents like Kikwete call for national unity.
This isn’t just political rhetoric; it reflects the lived reality of many Tanzanians who watch closely, caught between nostalgia for Kikwete’s earlier years and frustration at his current role.
The swirling rumors and trending debates around his stance on reforms reveal a growing disillusionment. Many feel that meaningful change demands more than speeches—it requires true courage and political will, qualities that still seem elusive.