Who gets to tell Tanzania’s story in Washington — and at what cost?

 By Dennis  Malindi

When news surfaced that Tanzania had signed a $1.08 million, two-year contract with a Washington consulting firm led by a former Republican congressman, the reaction followed a script that has become almost automatic.

Headlines hardened within hours. Social media, particularly among Tanzanians in the diaspora, treated the disclosure less as information than as evidence. To critics already suspicious of the government, the contract was not a public-relations move at all; it was a confession.

There was an emotional logic to that response. Tanzanian politics over the past few years have not been abstract. Elections were not distant rituals but deeply felt moments that strained trust and widened generational divides.

So, when a clean dollar figure appeared, foreign, precise, and easily repeated, it became a vessel for frustration. The number itself acquired a moral weight it was never meant to carry.

Watching the debate unfold, however, it became clear how quickly Tanzania stopped being discussed as a country and started being treated as a symbol – a symbol of surrender to some, of defiance to others.

That does not mean the context that produced such reactions can be dismissed. Tanzania did experience a contentious electoral period, and the criticism that followed was not invented.

Opposition actors raised concerns about political space. Civil society questioned institutional independence. Many ordinary citizens, especially younger ones, spoke openly about fatigue and a sense that democratic promises were falling behind lived reality. Any serious analysis has to begin there.

But it cannot end there either. What followed that period matters, even if it has drawn less attention. Since President Samia Suluhu Hassan assumed office, the political atmosphere has shifted in ways that are visible but incomplete. Opposition rallies resumed after years of restriction.

Media engagement widened, cautiously and unevenly. The tone of governance softened, replacing confrontation with dialogue. None of this erased past damage, and none of it resolved every grievance. Still, it altered the direction of travel.

Democratic repair is rarely dramatic. It is slow, uneven, and often frustrating, particularly for younger citizens who feel time slipping away. Tanzania now sits in an uncomfortable middle ground, no longer frozen in crisis, not yet fully trusted again. It is precisely in this space that outside judgment is most unforgiving.

It was into this atmosphere that the Washington contract landed. To some observers, it looked like proof that reforms were cosmetic. To others, it seemed like a misunderstanding of how power actually works.

Engagement comes with ethical discomfort. The contract’s emphasis on third-party validators, academics, former officials, policy institutes, raised legitimate concerns.

There is a thin line between explanation and influence laundering. In an era of deep mistrust toward elite consensus, such strategies risk reinforcing cynicism rather than dispelling it. Acknowledging this risk is essential to any honest defence.

Still, Tanzania did not invent this playbook. Under US disclosure laws, governments across the world spend far more navigating Washington. Japan and South Korea routinely spend tens of millions of dollars annually on lobbying and strategic communications.

Developing countries do the same: Kenya, Nigeria, and Ethiopia have all retained US firms at costs comparable to or higher than Tanzania’s. Normalisation, however, should not be confused with endorsement. A widespread practice can still be ethically fraught.

Much of the intensity surrounding the contract has less to do with elections than with minerals. Strip away the outrage, and the subtext becomes clearer. The United States is racing to diversify supply chains for critical minerals essential to electric vehicles, renewable energy, and defence technology.

China’s dominance has turned this into a geopolitical priority. Tanzania, with its graphite, nickel, gold, and rare-earth prospects and an established mining sector, sits squarely in that recalibration, whether it seeks it or not.

President Hassan has been blunt on this point. Tanzania will not accept lectures about its resources from countries whose interests sharpened only when supply chains became vulnerable. Partnerships, she has argued, must be negotiated, not imposed.

Scepticism is still warranted. Mining has long brought both revenue and resentment. Contracts exist, but debates over transparency, local benefit, and environmental cost remain unresolved. If Tanzania wants to present itself as a strategic partner rather than a resource frontier, it will need to show that governance keeps pace with ambition, not merely promise it.

Criticism directed at Dar es Salaam often slips into moral absolutism. Why spend money abroad when challenges persist at home? It is a fair question. Nevertheless, it becomes less convincing when asked selectively, without acknowledging that global politics routinely subordinates democratic ideals to strategic interests. Pointing this out does not excuse Tanzania; it situates the scrutiny.

More troubling is how dissent has sometimes been flattened into distortion. Activists raising concerns about elections, youth unemployment, or political inclusion are not enemies of the state. Many speak from lived frustration. However, exaggeration – claims that the government is spending “billions” to erase wrongdoing – does real damage. It corrodes trust not only in government but in critique itself.

Inside Tanzania, the work that will ultimately matter continues without much spectacle. Youth engagement initiatives exist, though outcomes remain uneven. Dialogue has reopened, though scepticism persists.

Prime Minister Mwigulu Nchemba’s emphasis on stability and inclusion reflects an understanding that legitimacy cannot be narrated into existence. It must be felt, especially by a generation that measures democracy less by slogans than by opportunity.

Dennis Malindi is a political analyst based in Dar es Salaam