In her recent address to Parliament, President Samia Suluhu Hassan did something no government leader has done since the October 29 election crisis erupted: she openly acknowledged that Tanzanians died during the election-related violence. It was a rare moment of candour in a season dominated by denials, accusations, and grief.
More importantly, she promised action – an inquiry commission, reconciliation talks, and a new political opening aimed particularly at the angry and disillusioned youth now referred to collectively as Gen Z.
Her words were not empty. She pledged a new constitution, creation of a dedicated youth ministry, and, notably, offered amnesty to hundreds of arrested protesters across the country, an appeal packaged in maternal language, calling on the country to heal.
But in Tanzania’s deeply polarised moment, presidential promises collide with deep public scepticism. Can the nation heal?
In the digital squares, where Gen Z mobilises, President Samia’s overtures landed with mixed reception. Some young people welcomed the possibility of dialogue; others dismissed it as political theatre, “too little, too late.”
READ MORE: Mending the Fracture: Samia’s Prescription for a Nation Tested
The main opposition party, CHADEMA, remains firm in its position that the election was illegitimate, a refusal that delegitimises every official now holding office. To them, reconciliation cannot begin with what they view as a stolen mandate.
Activists have laid out their own uncompromising demands: Release all political prisoners, starting with CHADEMA national chairperson Tundu Lissu; return the bodies of missing protesters; and account for citizens who disappeared over a year ago and remain untraceable to date.
They are going further into daring to demand that the President step down, a demand that basically nullifies every other move for talks.
These demands speak to trauma, not politics. For many families, reconciliation means facing the likelihood that those they lost will never return. This emotional landscape makes compromise, any compromise, a bitter pill.
The price of peace
Reconciliation anywhere requires that each side give up something it values. In Tanzania’s case, the President has already made visible concessions: an amnesty for detained youth, commitment to a constitutional overhaul, a new youth ministry, formation of an inquiry commission, and most importantly, admission that people died!
READ MORE: Tanzania After October 29, 2025: Will Reconciliation Without Empathy Work?
Are these enough? Perhaps not. But they are meaningful political costs. She could go further: freeing Tundu Lissu, reforming the electoral body, or legally binding the constitutional reform process, and taking legal action against perpetrators of the killings during the violence.
She could do more or even less, depending on the nature of the negotiations. It all depends on minor details, twists and set conditions.
For Gen Z and the opposition, the path to compromise is even harder. They mourn friends, siblings, neighbours – people whose absence is a daily wound. They feel betrayed by the state meant to protect them.
Yet, in the cold reality of negotiation, they may be asked to accept the election outcome, however flawed they believe it to be. They may also have to confront the devastating possibility that some of the missing will never be found.
Reconciliation is never a conversation with friends; it is a negotiation with those one believes have wronged them.
READ MORE: Tanzania After October 29, 2025: Reclaiming the Island of Peace
History is full of painful but necessary compromises. When Donald Trump suggested that Ukraine might need to cede territory to end the war, he was not endorsing the morality of Russia’s invasion; he was acknowledging strategic imbalance.
When Raila Odinga accepted the Prime Minister’s position after Kenya’s bloody 2007 election, it was not because he believed he lost; it was because continuing the fight would have cost thousands more lives.
Common sense often masquerades as cowardice, but peace is rarely achieved by the triumphant; it is achieved by the pragmatic.
What if no one blinks?
If neither side bends, the alternatives are grim. The government still controls all instruments of power, should tensions escalate. It is a scenario no Tanzanian wants to imagine.
Activists have already announced fresh protests for December 9. The timing is dangerously close. In such a charged environment, even a small spark could ignite another deadly turn. History offers clear warnings: Kenya’s “Ruto Must Go” protests did not remove President Ruto. Venezuela’s massive demonstrations did not topple Maduro.
Even the catastrophic violence of Kenya’s 2007 crisis did not remove Mwai Kibaki, but dialogue eventually prevailed. Even when protests succeed, power is usually grabbed by the military.
Protests can raise moral pressure, but rarely do they unseat entrenched power. Without talks, the stalemate may only deepen.
A hidden opportunity?
Sometimes tragedy births transformation. Kenya’s 2007 violence changed Mwai Kibaki from a remote leader into a reformer. He supervised the drafting of what many regard as Africa’s most progressive constitution. He stabilised a country many had written off. Trauma forced a political awakening.
Could Tanzania be standing at a similar crossroads?
It is possible that the violence of October 29 becomes the nation’s wake-up call, the moment both the state and its youth realise that the system as built can no longer endure.
READ MORE: Tragic October 29: Tanzania’s Turning Point?
If Tanzania emerges with a new constitution, independent institutions, and a political culture that listens rather than silences, then the tragedy, though unforgivable, may yet yield a path to renewal.
Reconciliation is not a moral reward. It is a strategic necessity. Both sides must decide whether the future is worth more than the present anger. Gen Z must decide whether justice can coexist with compromise. The government must decide whether reform can coexist with power.
Tanzania’s next chapter will not be written by the most righteous side, but by the side most willing to bend without breaking.
In the end, peace is not given; it is made. And right now, Tanzania must choose to make it. Talk for the sake of us ALL!
Festo Mulinda is a political analyst and freelance columnist focusing on international relations and geopolitics. He can be reached at mulindafesto@gmail.com or on X as @fmulinda_III. 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.
