When Tanzania’s young people took to the streets following the disputed October 29, 2025 elections, many observers were taken by surprise. Long viewed as a country of political stability where dissent was tightly controlled, Tanzania had rarely seen large-scale youth-led protests. Yet for a generation grappling with unemployment, rising living costs and shrinking civic space, the violent response to the elections marked a breaking point.
What unfolded was not a conventional protest movement. Instead, Tanzania’s Generation Z gave rise to a decentralised form of resistance shaped as much by economic hardship as by political anger, and sustained less by confrontation than by mutual care and quiet organising.
The elections were expected to reinforce continuity under President Samia Suluhu Hassan. Instead, allegations that opposition candidates were barred from contesting key races sparked demonstrations in cities such as Dar es Salaam, Arusha and Mwanza. Many protesters were first-timers: students, informal workers and unemployed graduates. Although the protests began peacefully, security forces responded with tear gas, batons and live ammunition. Rights groups and eyewitnesses report that hundreds of young people were killed, opposition leaders were detained and internet access was restricted.
The government rejected claims of excessive force, framing the protests as disorderly and driven by misinformation. For many young Tanzanians, however, the violence shattered any remaining faith in the political process. Student activist George Mwihava described the moment as one of harsh clarity, saying it revealed that even asking questions could come at the cost of lives.
While the disputed vote ignited the protests, the underlying grievances run much deeper. Tanzania’s young people are entering adulthood better educated than any previous generation, yet education has not translated into economic security. Afrobarometer data show that around 40 per cent of Tanzanians aged 18 to 35 have completed secondary or post-secondary education, more than double the proportion among older generations. Despite this, youth unemployment stands at 26 per cent, significantly higher than among older age groups.
With formal employment scarce, self-employment has become the default rather than a choice. Two-thirds of young Tanzanians say they would prefer to run their own businesses simply because paid jobs are unavailable. At the same time, steadily rising food and fuel prices have placed additional strain on households. For young people relying on informal incomes, even small increases can destabilise already fragile livelihoods. As Mwihava put it, education without work feels like a broken promise.
Before the elections, much of Gen Z’s activism played out online, where social media platforms were used to share information, track alleged irregularities and debate political futures. After the crackdown, these digital networks were repurposed for survival. WhatsApp groups helped locate missing friends, organise legal support and raise funds for hospital bills. Contributions were often modest, sent via mobile money by students, vendors and informal workers across the country and the diaspora.
There was no central leadership and little desire for visibility. Trust mattered more than prominence, as many organisers avoided public profiles due to fear of surveillance and reprisals. As one community organiser explained, the goal was no longer to be loud, but to keep people alive.
In this tense environment, an unexpected moral voice emerged. An elderly rural woman, widely known as Bibi wa Gen Z, or the Grandmother of Generation Z, began posting short videos recorded on a basic mobile phone. Speaking calmly and without slogans, she addressed the deaths of young protesters and questioned a system that demanded obedience while offering little dignity. Her real name has been withheld for security reasons.
Her message resonated precisely because it drew on familiar cultural authority. In a society where elders are traditionally respected, her words carried weight without confrontation. As digital content creator Kulwa Kaseja noted, she spoke like a grandmother—quietly but firmly—making her harder to dismiss.
The movement’s emphasis on care became especially visible when the grandmother suffered a stroke and required urgent medical treatment she could not afford. Gen Z networks mobilised rapidly, raising more than seven million Tanzanian shillings in a matter of days. Most donations were small, sent by ordinary people through mobile money. Activists described the response not as charity, but as responsibility, reflecting a shared understanding that people must care for one another when institutions fail to do so.
This ethic of care has since extended to fundraising for detained opposition figures, supporting families of those killed in the protests and organising quiet community discussions about rights and participation. Rather than fading, the movement has adapted.
Tanzania’s Gen Z mobilisation reflects a broader youth awakening across Africa. In Kenya, youth-led protests halted a controversial finance bill. In Senegal, young voters reshaped electoral outcomes. Across the continent, analysts observe that such movements are driven less by ideology than by survival, shaped by joblessness, inflation and exclusion from decision-making.
For Tanzania’s young people, technological change adds another layer of anxiety. Artificial intelligence is already reshaping labour markets globally. While AI may create new jobs, it is also expected to displace many, particularly in sectors such as retail, clerical services, customer support and agriculture. In a country where most workers are informally employed and digital skills remain uneven, analysts warn that automation could deepen inequality and push more young people into precarious livelihoods.
The government has sought to ease tensions by emphasising stability and economic reform, downplaying the scale of protest-related violence and warning against foreign-influenced narratives. Some organisers have faced legal pressure, and surveillance is widely assumed. Yet Gen Z activism has not disappeared. Instead, it has shifted toward voter registration, community forums and low-profile organising.
As student activist Zawadi Mwenda explained, young people are learning to exist in the gaps, asserting that they do not need permission to care about their future.
Ultimately, Tanzania’s Gen Z protests reveal a deeper reality. They are not driven by a single leader or demand, but by accumulated frustrations: education without opportunity, stability without voice and obedience without dignity. The grandmother’s role matters not because she leads, but because she reflects these tensions back to society in familiar language. Her presence underscores the movement’s central message—that accountability is not rebellion, and care is not weakness.
