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Tanzania’s Gen Z protests were triggered by disputed elections, a violent security crackdown and long-standing economic frustration
High youth unemployment, rising living costs and limited political space have fuelled anger among young Tanzanians
After the violence, many activists shifted from street protests to mutual aid, documentation and quiet organising
When Tanzania’s young people poured onto the streets after the disputed October 29, 2025 elections, many observers were caught off guard. The country had long been seen as politically stable, with protests rare and dissent tightly contained.
But for a generation already struggling with unemployment, rising living costs and shrinking civic space, the violent crackdown that followed the vote marked a breaking point.
What has emerged since is beyond a conventional protest movement. A loose, decentralised form of resistance has been shaped as much by economic frustration as by political anger, and sustained through mutual care rather than confrontation.
The October election was expected to reinforce continuity under President Samia Suluhu Hassan. Instead, allegations that opposition candidates were blocked from contesting key races triggered protests in cities including Dar es Salaam, Arusha and Mwanza.
Many of those on the streets were first-time protesters: students, informal workers and unemployed graduates. Demonstrations were initially peaceful, but security forces responded with tear gas, batons and live ammunition.
Rights groups and eyewitnesses say hundreds of young people were killed. Opposition leaders were detained. Internet access was restricted.
The government has rejected claims of excessive force, describing the protests as disorderly and fuelled by misinformation. But for many young Tanzanians, the events shattered any remaining trust in the political process.
“This was when we understood that even asking questions could cost lives,” said George Mwihava, a student activist in Dar es Salaam. “We realised the system was not designed to protect us.”
While the elections provided the immediate spark, the grievances driving Tanzania’s Generation Z run far deeper.
Young people are entering adulthood better educated than any previous generation, yet education has not translated into economic security. According to the latest Afrobarometer survey, around four in ten Tanzanians aged 18 to 35 have completed secondary or post-secondary education, more than double the proportion among older generations.
Despite this, youth unemployment remains high. Afrobarometer data show that 26 per cent of Tanzanians aged 18 to 35 are unemployed and actively seeking work, compared with 15 per cent among those aged 36 to 55.
With formal jobs scarce, self-employment has become the default option. Two-thirds of young Tanzanians say they would prefer to run their own business, largely because paid employment is unavailable rather than by choice.
At the same time, the cost of living has continued to rise. Food and fuel prices have climbed steadily, squeezing households already stretched thin. For young people living in cities or relying on informal incomes, even small price increases can be destabilising.
“Education without work feels like a broken promise,” said Mwihava. “You study, you graduate, and then you wait.”
Before the elections, much of Gen Z activism unfolded online. Social media platforms became spaces to track alleged irregularities, share videos and debate political futures.
After the crackdown, those same digital networks were repurposed for survival.
Young people used WhatsApp groups to locate missing friends, organise legal support and raise money for hospital bills. Contributions were often small, 500 or 1,000 shillings at a time, but they came from across the country and the diaspora.
There was no central leadership. Trust mattered more than visibility. Many organisers avoided public profiles, wary of surveillance and reprisals.
“The aim was not to be loud,” said a community organiser who asked not to be named. “It was to keep people alive.”
In this atmosphere, an elderly rural woman emerged as an unexpected moral reference point.
Known publicly as Bibi wa Gen Z, meaning the Grandmother of Generation Z, she recorded short videos on a basic mobile phone, speaking calmly about the deaths of young protesters and the responsibility of leaders to protect life. Her real name has been withheld for security reasons.
She did not speak about ideology or party politics. Instead, she framed the violence in moral terms, questioning a system that demanded obedience while offering little dignity.
Her words resonated precisely because they echoed familiar cultural authority. In a society where elders are traditionally respected, her voice carried weight without slogans or confrontation.
“She spoke like our grandmothers speak, quietly, but firmly,” said Kulwa Kaseja, a digital content creator in Dar es Salaam. “That made it harder to dismiss.”
The movement’s emphasis on care became especially visible when the grandmother fell seriously ill after suffering a stroke.
She required urgent 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 modest, sent via mobile money by students, vendors and informal workers.
For organisers, the response was not charity but obligation.
“What people showed was not sympathy, but responsibility,” said activist Twaha Mwaipaya, speaking from exile in Kenya. “They were caring for one another because the system does not.”
This ethic of care has since extended to other causes – fundraising for detained opposition figures, supporting families of those killed in protests and organising quiet community discussions about rights and participation.
Tanzania’s Gen Z mobilisation mirrors broader patterns across Africa and beyond.
In Kenya, youth-led protests forced the withdrawal of a controversial finance bill. In Senegal, young voters helped reshape electoral outcomes. From Morocco to Madagascar, young people have challenged corruption, inequality and shrinking civic space.
“These movements are not about chaos,” said Aidan Eyakuze, executive director of the Open Government Partnership. “They are signals – indicators that institutions are not responding to lived realities.”
Across the continent, analysts say youth protests are driven less by ideology than by survival: joblessness, inflation and exclusion from decision-making.
For Tanzania’s young people, economic anxiety is increasingly shaped by technological change.
Artificial intelligence is already altering how work is organised globally. Estimates suggest that while AI could create millions of new jobs worldwide, it will also displace tens of millions by the end of the decade.
In Tanzania, where around 72 per cent of the workforce is informal and digital skills remain unevenly distributed, analysts warn that job losses could arrive faster than new opportunities.
Sectors that absorb large numbers of young workers, like retail, clerical services, customer support and agriculture, are among those most exposed to automation.
Without targeted investment in skills and safeguards, AI could deepen inequality, widen the rural–urban divide and push more young people into precarious livelihoods.
The Tanzanian government has sought to calm tensions, emphasising stability and economic reform. Officials have downplayed the scale of protest-related violence and warned against what they describe as foreign-influenced narratives.
Some organisers have faced legal pressure, and surveillance is widely assumed.
Yet Gen Z activism has not retreated. Instead, it has shifted form – towards voter registration, community forums and quiet organising.
“We are learning to exist in the cracks,” said student activist Zawadi Mwenda. “We don’t need permission to care about our future.”
The emergence of Tanzania’s Gen Z movement reveals a deeper truth about the country’s politics.
It is not driven by a single figure or demand, but by accumulated frustrations: education without opportunity, obedience without dignity, and stability without voice.
The grandmother’s role matters not because she leads, but because she reflects these tensions back to society in familiar language.
Her presence underscores a central message of the protests: that accountability is not rebellion, and care is not weakness.