On December 9, 2025, the streets of Tanzania’s largest cities—Dar es Salaam, Dodoma, Arusha, Mbeya, Mwanza, and beyond—were eerily quiet. Instead of the usual bustle that marks the country’s Independence Day, a heavy presence of police and military patrols dominated the urban landscape. The government, wary of unrest, had canceled the annual celebrations weeks earlier, redirecting the festive funds to repair infrastructure damaged in the wake of October’s contested presidential election. The air was thick with tension, uncertainty, and the shadow of recent violence.
According to reports from the Associated Press and Mail & Guardian, the Tanzanian government declared all planned protests illegal and urged citizens to stay home, turning what should have been a day of national pride into one of apprehension. Prime Minister Mwigulu Nchemba publicly asked all nonessential workers to remain indoors. Public transport in Dar es Salaam ground to a halt as bus owners, fearing a repeat of October’s chaos, withdrew their vehicles from service. Roadblocks sprang up around key government installations, especially near President Samia Suluhu Hassan’s offices in both Dar es Salaam and the administrative capital, Dodoma.
The government’s show of force was a direct response to calls for demonstrations by activists and opposition groups, who have been demanding answers and accountability following the disputed October 29 election. That election saw President Hassan—who had ascended to the presidency in 2021 after the death of her predecessor, John Pombe Magufuli—declared the winner with a staggering 97% to 98% of the vote. Opposition parties, however, were barred from fielding candidates, and their leaders, most notably Tundu Lissu, have been sidelined or imprisoned. Lissu, who had demanded electoral reforms before the vote, has languished in jail since April on treason charges.
The aftermath of the October election was marked by three days of violent protests. Demonstrators—furious over the exclusion of opposition voices and the landslide victory claimed by the ruling party—set vehicles, polling stations, and gas stations ablaze. The government’s response was swift and brutal. International observers, including the United Nations, estimate that hundreds of people were killed in the crackdown, while opposition groups claim the death toll exceeds 1,000. More than 2,000 people were detained, and a five-day internet blackout shrouded the country in a digital silence that only deepened the sense of fear and isolation.
Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have condemned the Tanzanian government’s actions. In a statement issued on December 8, Human Rights Watch decried the ongoing crackdown on activists, noting that at least 10 people had been arrested since mid-November simply for posting about the planned protests on social media. Amnesty International warned against any repeat of the post-election internet shutdown, urging authorities to respect the right to peaceful assembly. Press freedom advocates joined in the chorus of criticism, highlighting the climate of fear that has descended over Tanzanian journalists. One media owner, speaking anonymously to Mail & Guardian, confessed, “We can’t publish critical coverage.”
The United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights weighed in on December 5, urging Tanzanian authorities to “refrain from using force to disperse non-violent assemblies and make every effort to de-escalate tensions.” The UN, along with Kenyan activists and other regional observers, has also called for investigations into the killings and disappearances that have haunted the country since October. Dozens of Kenyan activists have expressed solidarity with their Tanzanian counterparts, demanding a full accounting for those who vanished or lost their lives during the protests.
Despite the mounting pressure, President Hassan has remained defiant. She has repeatedly dismissed allegations of excessive force as “neo-colonial criticism” from Western powers and insisted in public speeches that “the force used was not excessive.” According to Mail & Guardian, Hassan has accused “foreign instigators” of stirring up unrest and has defended the government’s actions as necessary to maintain order. In a bid to quell international outrage, she established a government commission to investigate the post-election violence. However, the opposition has flatly rejected this move, demanding instead an independent international inquiry involving the United Nations and the International Criminal Court. The findings of the government’s commission remain unpublished, fueling suspicions and deepening distrust among the populace.
Meanwhile, the true scale of the tragedy remains shrouded in uncertainty. Death toll estimates range from several hundred, as reported by the UN, to as many as 3,000 according to some opposition figures. The government has not released an official figure, and it stands accused by both local and international groups of hiding the bodies of those killed and suppressing information about the crackdown. Arrests of activists and opposition supporters continue, with treason charges and intimidation tactics deployed to stifle dissent. The result is a suffocating climate of fear, where even social media posts can land a person in jail, and journalists risk their livelihoods—and their liberty—by reporting the truth.
The opposition, for its part, remains undeterred. Leaders continue to demand answers about the fate of those who disappeared during the crackdown and insist on transparency regarding the death toll. Their calls are echoed by regional and international human rights organizations, which have made it clear that Tanzania’s handling of the post-election unrest is under global scrutiny.
Looking back, the events of December 9, 2025, stand as a stark reminder of the deep divisions and unresolved grievances that continue to shape Tanzanian society. Independence Day, once a symbol of national unity and pride, was instead marked by empty streets, shuttered businesses, and a pervasive sense of unease. The government’s decision to cancel celebrations and deploy security forces across the country was not just a response to the threat of protest—it was a tacit acknowledgment of the fragility of the current political order.
As the world watches and waits for the findings of the government’s commission, one thing is clear: the wounds left by the October election and its bloody aftermath will not heal easily. The demands for justice, accountability, and genuine democratic reform are not going away. Whether Tanzania’s leaders will heed those calls—or continue down the path of repression—remains to be seen. For now, the country stands at a crossroads, its future uncertain, its people yearning for answers and, perhaps, a measure of peace.
