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POLITICS

Arab Strategic Miscalculations: Hamas’ Oct. 7 Attack on Israel is the Latest in a long Line of Strategic Blunders.

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By Hilal Khashan

Strategic military miscalculation usually results in the collapse of authoritarian regimes. The decision of Argentina’s military junta to invade the Falkland Islands in 1982 led to its defeat in the war against Britain and the fall of Gen. Leopoldo Galtieri’s regime. Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990 led to a military disaster for the Iraqi army following Operation Desert Storm, paving the way for the 2003 U.S. invasion of the country and the fall of Saddam Hussein’s regime. Successful countries eventually accept the need to revamp their political systems, initiate democratic reforms and champion world peace. It took Germany, whose army fought exceptionally well operationally and tactically, two world wars to metamorphose. It took Japan’s disastrous defeat precipitated by the Pearl Harbor attack to convince Tokyo to change. Under U.S. direction, the two countries transformed into full-fledged democracies.

Since the turn of the 20th century, political leaders, heads of state and political movements in the Arab world have also shown a propensity for massive miscalculation. Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack is a prime example, but it was precipitated by several other cases that have shaped the region since World War I.

Hamas’ Miscalculation

Hamas’ rationale for last month’s attack stemmed from its conviction that Israel, with U.S. backing and Arab acquiescence, intended to eliminate any possibility of Palestinian statehood. By taking Israeli hostages, it also intended to secure the release of thousands of Palestinian prisoners being held in Israeli jails, knowing that Israel has in the past been willing to conduct prisoner swaps. (In 2011, Israel released more than 1,000 Palestinian prisoners to secure the release of Gilad Shalit, an Israeli soldier detained by Hamas for more than five years.) However, Hamas failed to consider the likelihood that Israel’s war Cabinet would launch an unprecedented air and ground campaign following its attack, the scale of which recalled the genocidal horrors ingrained in Israel’s collective consciousness.

Hamas expected Israel to plead for negotiations to secure the freedom of some 240 Israeli captives. Images from Gaza on Oct. 7 showed Hamas guerrillas ecstatic about the possibility of a massive prisoner swap. But Israel instead unleashed a withering military campaign. Moreover, Hamas did not inform Iran and its regional allies in advance about its plans. It assumed Hezbollah would join the fighting from southern Lebanon and that Iraqi militias in Syria would engage Israel from the Golan Heights. Hezbollah’s unenthusiastic involvement in the war has cost it far more casualties than Israel and did not relieve even the slightest pressure on embattled Hamas. Hamas was left stunned by its allies’ tepid response, having previously believed its attack would transform the Middle East and pave the path toward establishing a Palestinian state. An extraordinary summit of Arab and Islamic countries held last month in Saudi Arabia resulted only in generic statements of support for the Palestinians and demands for the immediate cessation of hostilities. Hamas counted on the outbreak of a third intifada, but Israel’s preemptive raids against West Bank activists ruled out this possibility as well.

Arab Revolt in 1916

Hamas’ deadly miscalculation wasn’t unprecedented. The 20th century is rife with episodes of poor decision-making by Arab leaders, beginning with the anti-Ottoman Arab Revolt in 1916. The British feared that Ottoman Sultan Mehmed V’s declaration of jihad in November 1914 against Great Britain, France and Russia (the so-called Triple Entente) would dissuade Indian Muslims from fighting against the Central powers – which included, in addition to the Ottoman Empire, Germany, Austria-Hungary and Bulgaria. The British high commissioner in Egypt, Henry McMahon, tried to convince the emir of Mecca, Sharif Hussein bin Ali, to declare jihad on the Ottoman Empire in exchange for creating an Arab Kingdom in West Asia. In June 1916, Hussein launched the Arab Revolt, unaware that Britain and France had already signed five months earlier the Sykes-Picot agreement, which gave administration over Iraq and Palestine to London and over Syria and Lebanon to Paris. The British also promised the emir of Najd, Ibn Saud, to include Hejaz in his rapidly expanding emirate.

McMahon clarified to Hussein that the Arab kingdom would not include Palestine. Hussein’s son, Faisal, who was proclaimed king of Syria in 1920, had communicated with the president of the Zionist Organization, Chaim Weizmann, and accepted the Balfour Declaration, which promised to establish a Jewish homeland in Palestine. He later rescinded this agreement due to Arab opposition. Faisal also heeded the recommendation of the U.S.-sponsored King-Crane Commission, which called for autonomy of mainly Christian Mount Lebanon.

Despite Sharif Hussein’s concessions, the interests of Britain and France prevailed against those of the Hashemites. Nevertheless, in partial fulfillment of their promise to them, Winston Churchill, then secretary of state for the colonies, declared Faisal king of Iraq in 1921 and his brother, Abdullah I, emir of Transjordan. However, Britain found working with Ibn Saud in Arabia more practical. The British allowed Ibn Saud to extend his territorial authority to Hejaz, provided he did not impinge on Britain’s sphere of influence in the Persian Gulf emirates, Transjordan and Iraq.

1948 Blunder

The Arab summits over the Palestine issue in 1946 in Egypt and Syria did not refer to military intervention in Palestine. They primarily rejected the recommendations of the Anglo-American Commission, which called for creating two states in Palestine, one Jewish and another Arab. They also promised to provide Palestinians with financial aid. Even the Egyptian secretary-general of the Arab League, Abd al-Rahman Azzam, totally opposed the war and advocated negotiations with the Zionist movement. Prominent politician Sidqi Pasha told Egypt’s Senate that the army was unfit for war and would lose if it took on the Haganah, a Zionist military organization that represented the Jews before Israel’s establishment.

King Farouk made the surprise decision to invade Palestine in 1948 against the recommendation of the Egyptian army and Cabinet – despite Prime Minister Mahmud Nuqrashi Pasha’s belief that the Palestine question was not a matter of vital national interest, and the Cabinet’s vote against committing the military to war. The army’s chief of staff did not believe the troops could go to war, let alone win, in part because the army deemed more than 80 percent of military-age Egyptians unfit for military service due to rampant hepatitis, schistosomiasis, malnutrition and illiteracy.

In the first communique broadcasted by the coup plotters on July 23, 1952, Anwar Sadat claimed that bribable officials in the defunct regime had purchased defective weapons, including artillery that exploded when firing during the 1948 Arab-Israeli war, leading to the defeat of the Egyptian army. However, investigations after the fall of the monarchy concluded that three artillery units exploded during loading due to poor training, not malfunctioning.

Egypt lost the war due in part to the lack of coordination with the Iraqi army and Jordan’s Arab Legion, the best-trained and most efficient army during the war, and in part to militarily unfit Egyptian troops, the absence of a war strategy and low morale. Farouk was determined to prevent the Hashemites in Iraq and Jordan from becoming the most significant royal power in the Middle East. At the same time, the Hashemites hoped to blunt Farouk’s ambition, especially since he entertained the idea of resurrecting the Islamic caliphate, which was disbanded in 1924 by Turkey’s Kemal Ataturk, and declaring Cairo its capital city. The Hashemites had achievable objectives, while Farouk had visions of grandeur.

Suez and the Straits of Tiran

Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser made a grave mistake when he nationalized the Suez Canal in 1956. His decision led three months later to the outbreak of the Suez War, which saw Britain, France and Israel declare war on Egypt, resulting in a disastrous military defeat for Cairo.

At the time of the canal’s nationalization, just 12 years remained of the original 99-year Anglo-French concession. Yet, the material losses that resulted from its nationalization, such as the seizure of Egyptian assets in European banks and the compensation paid to foreign shareholders, far exceeded the proceeds of nationalization. At the same time, the war and sanctions precipitated the beginning of the collapse of the Egyptian currency. Thousands of Egyptian soldiers and civilians were killed, and most of the hardware that Nasser had procured from former Czechoslovakia was destroyed. The war also destroyed modern European-style cities built by the British and French along the Suez Canal, such as Port Said, Port Fouad and Ismailia, and displaced hundreds of thousands of Egyptians. Furthermore, the U.N. General Assembly established the United Nations Emergency Force to patrol the border with Israel, stationed in the Sinai Peninsula, the Gaza Strip and Sharm el-Sheikh, allowing Israeli ships to cross the Straits of Tiran to the Red Sea for the first time since King Farouk banned them in 1950. Nasser’s reversion to the status quo ante in 1967 triggered the Six-Day War.

Egypt’s military was defeated, but diplomatically the war was a success. U.S. President Dwight Eisenhower coerced the tripartite alliance to pull out of Egypt, and Nasser’s prestige as the champion of Arab nationalism soared. During the interwar period leading to the 1967 war, Nasser bragged about building the most potent armed forces in the eastern Mediterranean. However, his Arab critics ridiculed him for allowing Israeli shipping through the Straits of Tiran. Over time this issue soured Nasser’s image, and he waited for an opportunity to undo it.

His chance came in May 1967. The Soviet Union warned Nasser about an Israeli military buildup near the Golan Heights in preparation for invading Syria. It was a false alarm, but even after discovering this, Nasser sent his army to Sinai in a spectacular military parade without intending to go to war. He also decided to block Israeli shipping from the Gulf of Aqaba into the Red Sea. Israel considered Nasser’s action as a casus belli and decided to complete the unfinished 1948 war.

The operational problems that plagued the Egyptian military in the 1948 and 1956 wars were still apparent in 1967. The Egyptian armed forces were unprepared for war, given their poor and politicized leadership and insufficient training. Moreover, Nasser assumed that the U.S. would resort to secret diplomacy to defuse the crisis. In 1960, during the union years between Egypt and Syria, Nasser sent his army to Sinai to relieve the pressure on the Syrian army after a major confrontation in the Golan Heights. Eisenhower used his leverage with Israel to restore quiet along the northern armistice line. But in 1967, President Lyndon Johnson’s administration, fed up with Nasser’s anti-American rhetoric, gave Israel the green light to launch the war. Israeli forces swept to victory against Egypt, Syria and Jordan. The political mood in Washington had changed, and Nasser’s failure to understand it caused a geopolitical earthquake that is still reverberating throughout the region.

Iraq’s Invasion of Kuwait

Iraq won the 1980-88 war with Iran but emerged economically battered from it. To cover the cost of the war, Iraq had borrowed billions of dollars from Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Kuwait. Unlike the Saudis and Emiratis, who wrote off Iraqi debt, Kuwait insisted that Saddam Hussein repay the $14 billion that Iraq owed. Iraq accused Kuwait of exceeding its oil production quota to lower crude oil prices, an untenable situation for Iraq, whose oil revenues were insufficient to cover the salaries of the bureaucracy and the large standing army. Baghdad also accused Kuwait of stealing Iraqi oil from the Rumaila oil field through slant drilling.

Saddam did not comprehend the complexity of international relations. He had spent years in prison and had not completed his college education. The only non-Arab capitals he had visited were Moscow and Paris. He did not grasp that Iraq, a country carved out by Britain in 1921, could not erase Kuwait, another country created by the British. Saddam based his decision to invade Kuwait on a cursory conversation with April Glaspie, then U.S. ambassador to Iraq, who told him that the U.S. had no policy on intra-Arab relations, which he understood to mean that the U.S. would only verbally condemn the invasion of Kuwait. He believed that invading Kuwait before the impending collapse of the Soviet Union would spare him the wrath of the U.S., unaware that the bipolar international system that shielded Third World countries already had ceased to exist.

Saddam’s reckless decision to invade Kuwait decimated the Iraqi army. A multinational military coalition intervened to reinstate Kuwait’s independence, and Iraq was subjected to severe sanctions, marking the end of its status as a rising regional power. In 2003, the U.S. invaded Iraq and toppled Saddam’s regime, enabling Iran to creep in and dominate the country.

Misunderstanding How the World Works

Arab leaders, engrossed in a distorted worldview, tend to see the world through the prism of their domestic politics, often failing to comprehend the complexity of international relations. Arabs in high office are autocrats who do not answer to anybody else, driving them to make fateful decisions. Many Arab leaders live in echo chambers, making decisions premised on faulty assumptions, inattentive to how their antagonists might respond. The consequences have played out time and again, including today in Gaza.

Hilal Khashan is a Professor of political science at the American University of Beirut. He is a respected author and analyst of Middle Eastern affairs. He is the author of six books, including Hizbullah: A Mission to Nowhere. (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2019).

Courtesy: Geopolitical Futures


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POLITICS

Ceasefire or Cycle? Gaza and the Politics of a Manufactured Peace

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Baba Yunus Muhammad

When dawn broke over Gaza on the 9th of November, 2025, it brought neither peace nor silence. The roar of Israeli jets shattered the pretense of calm as explosions tore through crowded neighborhoods, refugee camps, and hospital shelters. By morning, at least 104 Palestinians were dead — 35 of them children. Among the ruins stood the Insan camp, a temporary refuge for cancer patients, reduced to dust and disbelief.

The strikes came just three weeks after a ceasefire agreement that the world hailed as a “turning point.” For Palestinians, ceasefires have long ceased to mean peace. They are pauses — brief, exhausted silences before the next storm.

Anatomy of a Fragile Ceasefire

The October 10 ceasefire, brokered by U.S. President Donald Trump, was the latest in a series of fragile truces. Like its predecessors, it emerged not from mutual understanding but mutual fatigue. Israel retained control of Gaza’s airspace, borders, and sea routes; its drones continued to hover overhead; its army remained positioned just beyond the fence. Gaza, meanwhile, was expected to disarm while receiving little relief from a blockade that has strangled its economy for more than seventeen years.

Netanyahu’s renewed airstrikes followed a firefight in which an Israeli soldier was killed. Hamas denied initiating the clash, accusing Israeli troops of provocation. The immediate spark came amid public outrage in Israel over Hamas handing over fragments of a hostage’s body — remains Israeli forces claimed to have recovered two years earlier. The symbolism ignited nationalist fury, and Netanyahu reached for a familiar weapon: war.

War as Political Theatre

To understand why ceasefires collapse, one must look beyond the battlefield to the political theatre surrounding it. Netanyahu has long used Gaza’s suffering as a backdrop for domestic consolidation. Each escalation allows him to recast himself as Israel’s “protector,” diverting attention from corruption charges, coalition infighting, and mounting social unrest.

For Hamas, resistance remains a key source of legitimacy. Under siege since 2007, governing one of the most densely populated and impoverished territories on earth, defiance is a declaration of existence. Each exchange of fire sustains the cycle: Israel bombs to restore deterrence; Hamas fires back to restore dignity. Civilians are left to mourn, rebuild, and wait for the next pause — one that will hold just long enough for the world to look away.

Ceasefire Without Justice

Ceasefires in Gaza are often truce agreements without justice. They pause the violence but leave structural oppression intact. Since 2009, more than a dozen ceasefires have been declared, yet the roots of the conflict — occupation, displacement, blockade — remain. The siege restricts movement, bans exports, and limits imports, including medical supplies and construction materials. Unemployment hovers around 50 percent, electricity is rationed, and most children have never known freedom.

The Global Theatre

President Trump’s declaration that “nothing will jeopardise the ceasefire” while endorsing Israel’s “right to hit back” exposes the moral contradictions of global diplomacy. The United States presents itself as a peace broker while supplying Israel with weapons that make peace impossible. Europe, too, speaks of international law even as it trades with settlement-based companies and arms the Israeli military. The result is complicity. For Palestinians, the “international community” has become a bitter phrase — a chorus that mourns the dead but funds the killers.

Counting the Cost

Behind the numbers lie human stories. Children who had survived multiple wars, doctors performing surgeries by flashlight, teachers turning bomb shelters into classrooms — all perished or struggled to survive in this latest attack. At the Insan camp, a sanctuary for cancer patients, survivors described a night of terror and despair: “We thought a medical facility would be safe. Now we know that nothing is.”

Amid devastation, Gaza endures. Volunteers dig through rubble with their bare hands. Teachers reopen classrooms in the shadows of ruins. Mothers cook what little food remains for neighbors who have lost everything. Survival itself is resistance.

The Economics of Occupation

Every war leaves Gaza poorer and more dependent. The destruction of infrastructure is systematic: roads, factories, schools, and farms targeted to erase economic independence. The blockade prevents reconstruction, ensuring reliance on international aid, often routed through Israeli checkpoints and banks.

Occupation thus creates a paradox: humanitarian relief sustains the very structures that destroy lives. For Islamic economists, this reveals the moral bankruptcy of a global financial order that profits from misery. Decolonisation, therefore, is not only political — it is economic. Ending occupation requires dismantling systems that convert suffering into commerce and war into industry.

Africa’s Mirror

For Africans, Palestine’s struggle is painfully familiar. From apartheid South Africa to colonial frontiers in Algeria and Kenya, the continent knows what it means to have land stolen, identity erased, and resistance criminalized. African solidarity with Palestine is not sentimentality; it is historical memory. Nelson Mandela captured this truth: “Our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians.”

Economic justice, rooted in ethics, equity, and human dignity, must be the foundation for lasting peace — not only for Palestine but for the Global South as a whole.

What Will It Take?

The question before the world is simple yet profound: Will the ceasefire hold?

History offers little optimism. A truce that leaves occupation intact is a truce built on sand. Peace cannot be sustained by fear or imposed by force. It requires justice — not as rhetoric, but as reality.

For Gaza, justice means an end to siege, reconstruction without interference, accountability for war crimes, and recognition of Palestinian rights. It demands that the world confront its complicity and act beyond rhetoric. Islamic ethical principles remind us that peace (salam) cannot exist without justice (adl), and wealth should serve humanity rather than domination.

Will the Ceasefire Hold?

Not as it stands. A ceasefire can stop bullets, but not the machinery that fires them. It can pause violence, but not the ideology that justifies it. True peace will hold only when Gaza is free, Palestinians are sovereign, and the international community prioritizes justice over geopolitics.

Until then, each ceasefire is not the end of war, but preparation for the next. Yet hope persists — in Gaza’s hospitals, in classrooms rebuilt from rubble, in mothers who refuse despair. The ceasefire will hold only when the world’s conscience does — when justice, not expedience, becomes the guiding principle.

Footnote:

AFRIEF Webinar — “Palestine: Stolen or Decolonised?”

The Africa Islamic Economic Forum (AFRIEF) will host a two-hour virtual webinar exploring the political economy of Palestine, the structures sustaining occupation, and pathways toward decolonisation. Scholars, economists, and policy experts will examine how ethical finance, economic justice, and international solidarity intersect with the struggle for Palestinian sovereignty.

This webinar builds on discussions highlighted in this feature, providing a platform for informed dialogue on justice-oriented economics, human dignity, and the moral imperatives that must guide responses to Gaza’s ongoing crisis.

Baba Yunus Muhammad is the President of the Africa Islamic Economic Forum and a political and economic analyst with a focus on sustainable development, global trade, and Islamic economics. He writes regularly on issues of economic justice, governance, and the intersection of faith and finance


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POLITICS

The Economics of Legitimacy: When Power is Stolen, Prosperity is Postponed.

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Every economy rests on a foundation deeper than currency or trade — it rests on trust. When citizens no longer believe in their leaders, when institutions are captured and laws become elastic, the economy’s moral infrastructure collapses. This is the real cost of Africa’s democratic decay.

Illegitimate power corrodes fiscal discipline. Leaders who rule through manipulation rather than consent spend to survive, not to serve. They inflate bureaucracies, buy loyalty, and mortgage the future for immediate political calm. Public debt balloons, corruption thrives, and the poor — who have no lobby — bear the cost.

The link between governance and growth is now undeniable. The African Development Bank estimates that corruption and mismanagement cost the continent up to $150 billion annually. Countries with transparent elections enjoy three times higher foreign investment and twice the rate of economic diversification. By contrast, states governed by decree or deception face chronic capital flight and social unrest.

For the Islamic economist, legitimacy (sharʿiyyah) is not only a political concept; it is an economic principle. The Qur’an ties justice (ʿadl) to sustenance (rizq): “If the people of the towns had believed and been mindful of God, We would have opened for them blessings from the heavens and the earth.” (Qur’an 7:96).

Where rulers govern through consultation (shūrā) and accountability, nations prosper. Where deceit rules, even natural wealth turns into a curse. The lesson is clear: no budget, bond, or bailout can compensate for the loss of legitimacy.

……….Power Without Expiry Dates: The Continent’s Longest Reigns and the Price of Their Politics

Across Africa, the ballot box is losing its moral weight. Constitutions promise renewal, but power lingers. From Cameroon to Tanzania, the story is the same: elections are held, but accountability is postponed. What emerges is not people’s choice but political endurance — and the longer rulers stay, the weaker their nations grow.

In Cameroon, Paul Biya has ruled since 1982 — a staggering 43 years — recently securing another victory amid boycotts and fraud claims. Yoweri Museveni of Uganda, in power since 1986, continues to suppress dissent and throttle the internet at every poll. Teodoro Obiang Nguema of Equatorial Guinea has outlasted every African Union chairman since 1979, routinely “winning” with over 95% of the vote. In Eritrea, Isaias Afwerki governs without a single national election since independence in 1993.

Others are newer but no less troubling. Alassane Ouattara of Côte d’Ivoire claimed a constitutional “reset” to justify a third term in 2020. Samia Suluhu Hassan of Tanzania returned to power in 2025 with 98% of the vote, following arrests of opposition figures and curbs on the press. In Guinea, Mamadi Doumbouya — the military ruler who once promised civilian rule — has now banned opponents while announcing his own candidacy.

These are not aberrations; they are the architecture of Africa’s political stagnation.

Rigged Votes, Real Losses

Weak governance has an economic signature — and it’s written in red.
The IMF reports that Africa’s average risk premium on sovereign bonds stands at 6.8%, more than double the emerging-market norm. UNCTAD finds foreign investment fell 12% in unstable states since 2019. Youth unemployment averages 33% across the region. Tax systems collect barely 13–15% of GDP, compared to 33% globally. The African Development Bank estimates 5–7% of GDP is lost yearly to corruption and mismanagement.

Where leaders cling to power, capital flees. Where institutions collapse, the poor are left to pay in silence.

Where Ballots Bow to Bayonets

Across the continent, only a handful of nations — Botswana, Mauritius, Cabo Verde — maintain genuinely free and fair elections. Others, like Kenya, Ghana, and Senegal, wobble between progress and regression. The majority now live under systems where democracy is a façade: Tanzania, Uganda, Cameroon, Côte d’Ivoire, Guinea, and Egypt — all red on the Freedom House map, where gavel, crown, and tank replace the ballot box.

The Democracy–Development Disconnect

The numbers expose the paradox: the top 10 authoritarian states have an average per capita income of USD 2,100; the most democratic average USD 6,700.
Over 25 African nations have known one-party or one-man rule for more than a quarter-century.
Only nine have experienced peaceful power transfers in the past decade.
And according to Freedom House (2025), 77% of Africans now live under “partly free” or “not free” regimes.

“No economy can flourish where institutions are hollow, and no democracy can endure where justice is for sale.”
\Justice Is the Currency of Governance

Islamic values offer a forgotten metric of leadership. The Prophet ﷺ ruled through shūrā (consultation), ʿadl (justice), amānah (trust), and maṣlaḥah (the public good). These principles are the “coins” of moral legitimacy — yet today, most regimes rate dangerously low on each. Governance has become transactional, not ethical.

Until Africa restores the moral foundation of its politics, democracy will remain ritual — and economic reform, an illusion.

……..When the Pulpit Falls Silent: Why Africa’s Ulema Must Speak for Justice

Silence is not neutrality. In the Qur’an, the Prophet Shuʿayb was sent to a people whose commerce was unjust; he warned them that cheating the scales invites divine wrath. Today, across much of Africa, our scales — political, economic, moral — are badly tilted. Leaders cling to office through manipulation, youth lose faith in ballots, and public wealth is consumed by private greed.

This is not merely a political failure; it is a spiritual one. The Qur’an commands: “O you who believe, stand firmly for justice, witnesses for Allah, even if against yourselves or your kin.” (4:135). If the faithful will not hold rulers accountable, who will?

Africa’s mosques and religious institutions wield enormous moral authority. They educate, they counsel, they comfort — but too often, they retreat from confronting injustice for fear of politics. Yet the Prophet ﷺ said: “The greatest jihad is to speak a word of truth before a tyrant ruler.” Silence before oppression is not prudence; it is complicity.

Imams, scholars, and Islamic economists can champion reform without partisanship. They can preach about stewardship (amānah), integrity in public service, and the sin of corruption. They can organise civic literacy workshops that teach believers their constitutional rights and responsibilities. They can remind the wealthy and powerful that every dinar taken unjustly will be accounted for before Allah.

Africa does not lack constitutions; it lacks conscience. When mosques become centres of justice education, when the faithful demand accountability as a religious duty, when economic policy is shaped by moral restraint — then democracy will cease to be a ritual and become a trust once more.


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POLITICS

Samia Suluhu Hassan: Power, Pragmatism — and a Presidency Under Strain

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Baba Yunus Muhammad

When Samia Suluhu Hassan assumed Tanzania’s presidency in 2021, she arrived on a tide of cautious optimism. The sudden death of her predecessor, John Magufuli, had left the country in shock and uncertainty. Samia’s calm tone and early conciliatory gestures—restoring international ties, meeting opposition leaders, reopening dialogue with donors—were widely read as signs of a gentler, more pragmatic leadership. Yet four years later, that optimism has largely faded.

The October 2025 election cemented her power in dramatic fashion: an official landslide, nearly 98 percent of the vote, granting her and the ruling Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM) an overwhelming mandate. But it was a victory shadowed by suppression and fear. Opposition figures were disqualified or detained, campaign events broken up by security forces, and independent media throttled by new restrictions. When results were announced, protests erupted in Dar es Salaam, Mwanza, and Arusha. Police responded with curfews and force. Several deaths were reported.

The government insists it acted to preserve peace. Critics see the episode as proof that Tanzania’s democracy—once a regional example of quiet stability—has sunk into managed authoritarianism. The overwhelming vote margin, many observers argue, speaks less to popularity than to the absence of any genuine competition.

It is an irony of power: the leader once cast as healer now presides over an anxious nation. The ruling CCM, in office since independence, remains a formidable political machine. Its networks reach into nearly every district, its control of state resources entrenched through decades of incumbency. Samia’s presidency, in this sense, has deepened a long Tanzanian tradition—order without openness.

On the economic front, the picture is no less complex. Tanzania’s GDP growth has remained robust by regional standards, powered by construction, mining, services, and agriculture. Inflation is moderate, and the debt ratio comparatively healthy. Yet beneath these steady macro indicators lies a story of structural fragility. The country’s tax base is too narrow to sustain ambitious spending; vast public projects have piled up commitments without always yielding productivity gains. Youth unemployment is rising, rural inequality widening, and climate pressures increasingly threaten agriculture—the livelihood of most Tanzanians.

Multilateral institutions have praised Samia’s investment drive but warn that without deep revenue reform and stronger governance, Tanzania risks “growing without transforming.” Much of the growth remains urban and capital-intensive, leaving a restless young population excluded from its rewards. The president’s Vision 2050 blueprint—meant to drive industrialization and self-reliance—faces the same fiscal dilemma as similar plans before it: too few domestic resources, and too little political transparency to ensure that what’s spent is spent well.

The political climate only compounds those concerns. Human-rights organizations describe an expanding list of violations: arbitrary arrests, restrictions on assembly, forced evictions linked to development projects, and intimidation of journalists. In many regions, opposition rallies can only proceed under heavy surveillance, if at all. To international partners, Samia’s government projects a narrative of discipline and sovereignty; to her critics, it is a system increasingly allergic to dissent.

For ordinary Tanzanians, these dynamics are not abstract. Economic frustration meets shrinking civic space in dangerous ways. Farmers displaced from ancestral land, students struggling for jobs, and activists facing arrest—each is a symptom of a deeper imbalance between growth and justice. The protests that followed the 2025 election were not merely about votes, but about a sense that the system listens less and commands more.

Still, Samia remains a formidable political force. She has built her authority within CCM through a mix of pragmatism and patronage, consolidating the party’s factions and cultivating an image of motherly resolve. Her soft-spoken manner belies a leader keenly aware of power’s machinery and the price of control. In that respect, she has not betrayed her predecessor’s legacy so much as refined it—turning Magufuli’s confrontational nationalism into a more polished, internationally palatable form of dominance.

Tanzania’s future now stands at a delicate crossroads. One scenario envisions continued growth under tight political control—orderly, predictable, and perhaps efficient in the short term, but brittle in the long run. Another imagines a gradual opening, where the government restores civic freedoms and empowers institutions to check excess. The third, darker path would be escalation: more protests, harsher crackdowns, and international isolation that unravels the country’s economic promise.

The choice, ultimately, rests with the same woman who came to power preaching unity. Samia Suluhu Hassan governs a nation that still believes in its potential—a nation young, resource-rich, and eager for dignity. Whether she leads it toward inclusive prosperity or entrenched control will define not just her presidency, but Tanzania’s next chapter in history.

About the Author:
Baba Yunus Muhammad is the President of the Africa Islamic Economic Forum and a seasoned political analyst focusing on governance, democracy, and socio-economic transformation across Africa. He writes extensively on the intersection of faith, leadership, and political reform on the continent. His work bridges politics, economics, and moral philosophy, highlighting how governance and ethics shape development outcomes across the continent. babayunus@icloud.com


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