By Andrew Field
Tanzania heads to the polls on 29 October 2025, but the mood is grim. The ruling party, Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM)[1], has nominated President Samia Suluhu Hassan[2] for her first full elected term. Her running mate, Emmanuel Nchimbi, is a familiar face in CCM’s long political lineage. The party has governed since independence in 1961… and shows no signs of letting go. The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) claims over 37 million registered voters, a record, but the real story lies in who’s allowed to contest, and who isn’t.
Opposition politics has been gutted. Chadema, the largest opposition party, was barred in April for refusing to sign a code of conduct. ACT-Wazalendo’s candidate, Luhaga Mpina, was disqualified in August over alleged nomination irregularities. Tundu Lissu, Chadema’s chairman, was arrested in April on treason charges and remains in detention. His trial broadcasts were banned in August. What remains is a patchwork of minor-party candidates, most with little national reach. What’s left of the opposition operates underground or in exile, rebuilding after the 2020 boycott.
The legal framework has shifted too. New laws passed in 2023 and 2024, like the National Electoral Commission Act and the Presidential, Parliamentary and Councillors’ Elections Act, were billed as reforms. In practice, they’ve entrenched CCM’s dominance. INEC’s voter registration claims 100% coverage, but fraud allegations persist. Ghost voters, inflated rolls, and opaque procedures have eroded public trust. The electoral commission is widely seen as partial. CCM’s campaign leans heavily on Hassan’s infrastructure record, while critics point to economic stagnation, corruption, and over-reliance on gold exports.
The atmosphere is tense. Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and UN experts have documented a surge in repression. Over 100 cases of abductions and disappearances have been recorded since 2015, with a spike in 2025 targeting journalists, activists and opposition figures. Amani Golugwa, Chadema’s deputy secretary general, was arrested in May en route to a Brussels forum. Maria Sarungi Tsehai, a Tanzanian journalist, was abducted and released in Nairobi. Regional activists haven’t been spared either… Kenyan Boniface Mwangi and Ugandan Agather Atuhaire were arrested, tortured and deported earlier this year.
Peaceful rallies have been banned or violently dispersed. Police brutality is rising, with no accountability. Chadema Secretary-General John Mnyika was attacked at a youth rally in Mbeya. Witnesses describe masked men in government-issued Land Cruisers, armed with military-grade weapons and operating with impunity. The whispers of a state-sponsored terror network have grown louder. The name most often mentioned is Watu Wasiojulikana, ‘Unknown Assailants’, a unit said to be run from within the Tanzanian Intelligence and Security Service.
The most chilling case is that of Humphrey Polepole. Once a CCM insider, he resigned as ambassador to Cuba in September, accusing the government of deceit and moral decay. He warned publicly that if anything happened to him, it would be the government’s doing. Days later, he vanished. Neighbours in Ununio reported screams from his home. Surveillance footage showed armed men storming the compound. Blood was found trailing from his bedroom to the gate. The police denied involvement, then issued a vague statement about an investigation. His brother said plainly, “They came for him.”
Polepole’s sister Christina was abducted weeks earlier. She was beaten, blindfolded and dumped near her home with head injuries. At a habeas corpus hearing, she identified the Dar es Salaam Deputy Head of the Crimes Division as her abductor. The family has no doubt this was state action. Polepole’s disappearance, possibly murder, has electrified public debate. His final statement accused the state of being captured by hooligans. He said Tanzania was drifting into an era of fear and impunity.
Polepole’s accusations went further. He named President Hassan’s youngest son, Abdul Halim Hafidh Ameir, as the shadow force behind the repression. Abdul, who holds no formal government post, has represented his mother on regional missions and is said to work closely with Suleiman Abubakar Mombo, the Director-General of TISS. Polepole claimed Abdul directs the Watu Wasiojulikana unit and is orchestrating systematic electoral manipulation. He asked why senior officers remained silent. Three days later, he disappeared.
The family connection runs deeper. Abdul’s sister Wanu is a member of the Zanzibar House of Representatives. Her husband, Mohamed Mchengerwa, was previously minister responsible for TISS and now oversees local government, a strategic post during elections. In 2023, the law was changed to place TISS directly under the President’s control. Its remit now includes personal protection for leaders and foreign dignitaries, and the safeguarding of vital installations. TISS operates alongside but independently from the police and military, and participates in District Security Committees to monitor grassroots dissent.
Security insiders say the same architecture once used to “disappear” jihadists is now being deployed against domestic critics. Its reach is wide… its methods feared. Abdul’s role is not limited to repression. Activist Mange Kimambi has accused him of identifying government creditors and profiting from settlements. She claims he takes a 15% cut from recovered debts, including a $400m payout linked to the Dege Eco Village housing project. State House has not responded to these allegations.
The media landscape has shrunk. Three newspapers, The Citizen, Mwananchi and Mwanaspoti, were suspended for 30 days in 2024 for critical coverage. Social media access is restricted. X, formerly Twitter, was banned outright 4 June 2025, according to a statement by Information Minister Jerry Silaa. NGOs face deregistration under the Non-Governmental Organisations Act. A human rights video triggered license suspensions and platform blocks. The information space is closing fast… and that’s no accident. Elections are about visibility. When platforms vanish, so does scrutiny.
This is not new. The 2020 elections under John Magufuli were marred by violence and boycotts. What’s different now is the scale. Repression in 2025 is described as “unprecedented” by rights groups. Hassan came to power in 2021 promising reform. That promise has not materialised. Instead, the tactics have become more sophisticated. Legal disqualifications, digital blackouts and transnational repression are now part of the toolkit. The result is a procedural exercise devoid of legitimacy.
The economy offers no refuge. Growth figures look decent on paper, driven by public investment and extractive industries. But jobs are scarce, especially for young people. Agriculture remains stagnant. The urban informal sector absorbs labour but offers little upward mobility. Inflation bites. Corruption persists. Investors want stability, but they also want rule of law. Tanzania’s current trajectory risks economic isolation if post-poll unrest erupts.
This is the real issue. Africa’s democracies have become too comfortable recycling the same old parties ad infinitum. CCM is not unique. Across the continent, liberation movements have morphed into ruling autocracies veiled as democracies. Both East and West turn a blind eye… It is not Africa’s sovereign cartels that matter, but the resources they might exploit. They control the state, the media, the courts and the ballot box. Elections happen… but they don’t change much. The opposition is allowed to exist, but not to win. That’s not democracy. It’s choreography.
Tanzania’s election will probably be watched closely by the few that care. Not for its outcome, that’s largely predictable, but for its process. Will voters be allowed to assemble? Will journalists be free to report? Will social media remain dark? These questions matter. Democracy is not just about counting votes… it’s about the conditions under which those votes are cast. And so, good old Africa gets away with it… democratic laundering, writ large!
The continent deserves better. It warrants competition, not coronation. It merits parties that rise and fall based on performance, not patronage. It is worthy of free elections that offer real choice, not managed outcomes. Tanzania’s 2025 vote might have been a test, not just of its institutions, but of its political imagination. That is not to be. If the same old party wins the same old way, the call for renewal will only grow louder. So will the disappearances grow.
[1] Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM), Tanzania’s ruling party since 1977, was formed through the merger of the Tanganyika African National Union (TANU) and Zanzibar’s Afro-Shirazi Party. It inherited the legacy of Julius Nyerere’s post-independence socialism and one-party rule, later adapting to multiparty politics in the 1990s. Despite formal democratic reforms, CCM has retained power through deep institutional control, patronage networks, and dominance in rural areas. Its influence spans government, security, and local administration, making it the most enduring political force in Tanzania’s modern history.
[2] Samia Suluhu Hassan, born in Zanzibar in 1960, began her career in public administration before entering politics in the early 2000s. She served in Zanzibar’s government and later held ministerial roles in the Union government, including Minister of State for Union Affairs. Educated in Tanzania, India, and the UK, she earned a postgraduate diploma in economics from the University of Manchester. In 2015, she became Tanzania’s first female Vice President under President John Magufuli. Following his death in 2021, she assumed the presidency, becoming the country’s first female head of state.
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