As we approach the October 2025 elections, events in the political arena are unfolding at a rapid pace, leaving many to wonder what October will truly look like. Yet amid all the noise, one question lingers: Does our vote bring us closer to the pursuit of happiness?
What do we, as Tanzanians, really want? Will this election mark a turning point in our daily lives—or remain just another ritual of politics? And, in the end, who truly decides how we live, how free we are, and how happy we can be?
I borrow the phrase “pursuit of happiness” from the United States Declaration of Independence, which states: “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.” This vision is deeply influenced by the English philosopher John Locke. While the words may sound lofty, they convey an important aspect of the human experience.
The “pursuit of happiness” is not an abstract luxury. It speaks to inalienable rights that no authority—not even the state—can strip away. By nature, we are born free. The right to life is absolute. Liberty sustains life. And from liberty springs happiness. These are not privileges granted by the government; they are our birthright.
Our Constitution recognises this. The Bill of Rights affirms civic and political freedoms—famously referred to as first-generation rights. Among them is the right to participate in free and fair elections. Elections are not just administrative exercises; they are the foundation of democracy—the citizens’ chance to decide what kind of government we live under.
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This is where philosophy meets politics. Jean-Jacques Rousseau spoke of the social contract—the agreement by which citizens entrust a few with power to govern, not for personal gain, but for the common good: to protect life, liberty, and well-being. Thomas Hobbes, too, argued that the social contract is the source of order and security, without which life would be, in his words, “nasty, brutish, and short.”
Yet Rousseau warned us: sovereignty cannot simply be handed away. The general will—what we collectively decide—is the basis of legitimate authority. In modern times, elections are our moment of convergence, when we come together as citizens to choose leaders who must echo our voices, needs, and aspirations.
Mistrust of the system
But is this what truly happens? For some Tanzanians, the slogans “No Reform, No Election” and “October, Linda Kura” reflect a deep mistrust of the system and disappointment with the social contract.
They see little point in participating when the rules of the game seem rigged. For others, voting remains an act of hope—fragile, yet powerful—that their ballot might tilt the balance toward change. But what sustains this hope? Do our votes matter—do they truly carry our desire to transform reality?
These are not trivial questions. Our Constitution grants rights with one hand and, too often, curtails them with the other. Freedom of assembly, speech, and expression remains fragile, frequently overshadowed by the fear of repercussions. Yet any limitation on rights must be lawful, necessary, and proportionate—never arbitrary. Citizens should feel secure when exercising their rights, not threatened or exposed when claiming them.
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This is why elections matter. They are not mere ceremonies; they define the kind of institutions we build. Do we want a Parliament that is a rubber stamp—or one that acts as a true watchdog, holding government accountable and protecting the public good? Article 8 of our Constitution (United Republic of Tanzania, 1977) is clear: government power derives from the people. It exists to serve their welfare, not the other way around.
The pursuit of happiness is not just an individual dream. It is embedded in our Constitution itself. Articles 8 and 9 describe Tanzania as a nation of free and equal individuals, bound by freedom, justice, fraternity, and concord. This vision is powerful: our collective well-being should be the very purpose of politics.
Carrying the vision
So the real question is this: when we go to the ballot box, do we carry this vision with us? Do we cast our votes knowing that power flows from us? Do we expect a return on our trust—a government that puts citizens at the centre of everything?
Our votes are meant to give us dignity, power, and a voice in shaping our destiny. But they can only do so if the system works democratically. When democracy falters, it is not just institutions that collapse—it is the very idea of the social contract. What remains is not only disillusionment, but inequality: where a few enjoy liberty and happiness at the expense of the many.
The October 2025 elections must not be reduced to just another date on the calendar. They are a test of whether our social contract is alive—or broken. A test of whether the pursuit of happiness can still be found in the ballot box.
Fortunata Kitokesya is a lawyer and human rights expert. She is available at fortukito@gmail.com or on X as @fortunatak. The opinions expressed here are the writer’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of The Chanzo. If you are interested in publishing in this space, please contact our editors at editor@thechanzo.com.
