When Samia Suluhu Hassan stepped into Tanzania’s highest office in 2021, following the sudden death of President John Pombe Magufuli, there was a palpable sense of anticipation—if not outright hope. After all, Hassan was breaking barriers as the country’s first female president, and her early gestures hinted at a possible thaw in the repressive climate that had long shadowed Tanzanian politics. Less than six months into her presidency, however, a scathing cartoon by the renowned Tanzanian-born artist Gado captured the national mood shift. In the drawing, Hassan, clad in a military general’s uniform and labeled “Dictatoress,” gazes into a mirror. She appears to hold a torch—perhaps symbolizing liberty—but her reflection reveals a spiked club instead. The cartoon, published from Gado’s base in Kenya (where press freedoms are less restricted), was a stark warning: the promise of reform might be giving way to something more familiar, and far less democratic.
Now, as Hassan seeks her first elected term in the October 29, 2025, vote, critics and international observers say those early hopes have largely evaporated. According to Amnesty International, repression in Tanzania has “intensified” under Hassan’s leadership, with a surge in civilian abuses ranging from arbitrary arrests and enforced disappearances to extrajudicial killings. The organization’s recent statement paints a grim picture of the country’s political climate, noting that the government’s tactics have grown harsher rather than more open. “Her role as head of state and commander-in-chief places her directly in charge of the country’s security apparatus, giving her the authority to end the violations and restore a culture of respect for human rights,” Roland Ebole, an Amnesty International analyst, told The Associated Press.
Hassan’s ascent to the presidency was, in itself, a remarkable moment for Tanzania. As a former vice president, she inherited the office upon Magufuli’s death and quickly moved to assert her authority—recruiting associates who had been sidelined by her predecessor and keeping a notably tight circle of advisors. In less than three years, she appointed three different directors of the Tanzania Intelligence and Security Service, the country’s domestic spy agency. Some analysts saw this high turnover as a sign of her determination to consolidate power and maintain strict control over the state’s security apparatus.
Yet, for many Tanzanians, the hope was that Hassan would chart a different course from Magufuli, whose administration was notorious for its aggressive crackdowns on opposition and civil society. At first, there were glimmers of change. Hassan lifted a ban on opposition rallies outside the official electoral season—a move that was widely welcomed as a step toward greater political freedom. But as time went on, critics argue, these reforms proved more symbolic than substantive. “We expected more freedom, especially for political rallies and the press,” said one resident of Dar es Salaam, who spoke to the press on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisal. “But it feels like things are going back to the old ways.”
The political landscape leading up to the 2025 election has become increasingly fraught. Hassan’s party, Chama cha Mapinduzi (CCM), is one of the continent’s longest-ruling parties, having maintained power since Tanzania’s independence in 1961. Despite regular elections and a reputation for stability, the country has never experienced a peaceful transfer of power from CCM to an opposition party. This year, that pattern seems unlikely to change. The main opposition party, Chadema, has been effectively sidelined. Its popular leader, Tundu Lissu—who survived an assassination attempt in 2017—is currently jailed on treason charges. Chadema has refused to participate in the elections without reforms to ensure free and fair polling, a stance that led to its official disqualification by electoral authorities. Another prominent candidate, Luhaga Mpina of the Alliance for Change and Transformation-Wazalendo party, has also been barred from running, ostensibly for violating his own party’s constitution.
With her main rivals out of the race, Hassan is running virtually unopposed. According to the U.S.-based Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project (ACLED), the election “will follow over four-and-a-half years of sustained repression by a CCM-controlled state that is keen to avoid the electoral pressures” faced by ruling parties elsewhere in Africa. ACLED’s analysis is blunt: after receiving its lowest-ever share of the vote in 2015, CCM has “since neutered Tanzania’s opposition through administrative, legal, and extra-legal means.”
The international community has taken notice. In June, a United Nations panel of human rights experts cited more than 200 cases of enforced disappearance since 2019. The experts expressed alarm at what they described as “a pattern of repression” ahead of the elections. Their concerns were heightened after two pro-democracy activists from Uganda and Kenya, who had traveled to Tanzania to attend Lissu’s treason trial, went missing. The activists, Boniface Mwangi and Agather Atuhaire, later reported that they had been sexually abused before being deported. The chilling effect of such incidents has only deepened the sense of fear and mistrust among civil society groups and the broader public.
A recent high-profile disappearance has further rattled the nation. Humphrey Polepole, Tanzania’s former ambassador to Cuba, resigned his post earlier this year in a letter that was leaked on social media. In it, he cited his loss of “peace of heart and faith” in a government he accused of violating the rule of law. Hassan responded by revoking his diplomatic status. In early October, Polepole was reportedly seized by unknown individuals at his home in Dar es Salaam. Despite mounting calls for his release, his whereabouts remain unknown.
Throughout these developments, President Hassan has campaigned under the slogan “Work and Dignity,” promising to create opportunities in crop and livestock farming—the backbone of Tanzania’s economy. Her vision, summarized as the Four Rs—reconciliation, reforms, rebuilding, and resilience—has been promoted as a blueprint for national renewal. On the economic front, there have been some positive signs. Foreign direct investment has rebounded after years of stagnation under Magufuli, whose aggressive tax policies had alienated many investors. Hassan’s pro-business stance has been welcomed by some observers, but critics argue that her failure to build consensus and embrace genuine reform has left many Tanzanians disillusioned.
As the October 29 election approaches, the mood in Tanzania is one of cautious resignation. Many citizens still yearn for change, but the reality of an effectively unopposed incumbent and a climate of fear has dampened expectations. “Her role as head of state and commander-in-chief places her directly in charge of the country’s security apparatus, giving her the authority to end the violations and restore a culture of respect for human rights,” Amnesty International’s Roland Ebole emphasized. For now, however, the torch of liberty seen in Gado’s cartoon remains more a hope than a reality for many Tanzanians.
With the ballot all but decided, the world will be watching to see whether Tanzania’s first female president can—or will—deliver the freedoms her country so desperately wants.
