Leader of Tanzania's main opposition party could face death penalty
The security at the court building was extraordinary: a rooftop sniper, police with dogs and tear-gas launchers, vans with darkened windows, and a small army of black-masked guards with armoured jackets and submachine guns.
But the defendant in the courtroom is not a dangerous terrorist. He is a politician, a leader of Tanzania's main opposition party who faces a highly organized operation to prevent him from running in this year's election.
Tundu Lissu, chairman of the Chadema party, is on trial for treason − a charge that carries the death penalty. His prosecution, protested by human-rights groups around the world, exposes the sharp decline of democracy in a country that Western donors have long favoured with billions of dollars in aid.
Mr. Lissu has endured countless arrests and attacks over the past decade. In 2017, gunmen with assault rifles sprayed dozens of bullets at his vehicle, nearly killing him. After three years in exile and a long recovery in hospital from 16 bullet wounds, he returned fearlessly to politics, contesting Tanzania's 2020 election as an opposition candidate and finishing second in official results.
This year, Tanzania's authoritarian government seems determined to prevent him from running again. His party has been banned from the October election after authorities accused it of failing to accept an electoral code of conduct. Many of its top officials, along with other activists, have been arrested or harassed in recent weeks.
And now, Mr. Lissu faces a potential death sentence. He was arrested in April after he called for reforms in Tanzania's electoral system.
'This is not a normal trial,' the 57-year-old politician told the judge at his latest hearing on Monday. 'I have not been sentenced, yet I am held in the death-row block. I am watched night and day. I cannot speak to my lawyers in private. Not a single private conversation has been allowed.'
From 2020: Gunshots and tear gas fail to deter Tanzanian opposition leader Tundu Lissu
He described how two guards keep him under constant watch, day and night. He is even barred from joining other detainees in the prison's exercise yard. Instead, he is required to walk alone in a dirty drainage-ditch area.
Because his conversations with his lawyers are closely monitored, Mr. Lissu told the court that it is impossible for him to discuss strategy with them and he will be obliged to defend himself without any lawyers.
Wearing a shirt emblazoned with the opposition slogan – 'No reforms, no election' – he smiled and flashed a victory sign at local reporters. Outside the court, his supporters chanted his name and waved placards demanding justice, but their voices were nearly drowned out by police sirens. Most of his supporters were denied permission to enter the crowded courtroom.
A senior Tanzanian official told The Globe and Mail that the government's goal is to keep Mr. Lissu in prison until after the October election, to prevent him from running. After the vote, he will be quietly released, the official said. The Globe is not identifying the official because he could face retribution from the authorities for speaking out.
Tanzania has been governed by a single party since its independence in 1961. The ruling party, today known as Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM, the Revolutionary Party), has dominated all aspects of Tanzanian life and rarely tolerates much dissent. Its opponents have accused it of rigging recent elections to deliver huge majorities to CCM.
Freedom House, a U.S.-based democracy and rights group, recently announced that it had downgraded Tanzania's status from 'partly free' to 'not free' because of the government's repressive measures.
Despite this, Tanzania has remained a Western aid darling, and one of the largest recipients of Canadian foreign aid. Canada has provided $3.4-billion in international assistance to Tanzania since its independence, including $141-million in 2023-24, according to data from Global Affairs Canada.
As the election approaches, a growing number of opposition politicians and activists have been kidnapped in what amount to 'enforced disappearances,' according to a report by United Nations human-rights experts. They described it as 'a flagrant tactic to suppress dissent.'
In one of the most shocking cases, two activists from Kenya and Uganda who tried to attend Mr. Lissu's treason trial were arrested and disappeared for days. They were later dumped in remote border towns. Both gave detailed accounts of how they were tortured and sexually assaulted by Tanzanian security agents.
Even churches have fallen victim to the crackdown. This month, authorities ordered the shutdown of a prominent church and arrested a dozen of its worshippers after its bishop criticized the disappearance of opposition activists. The bishop, Josephat Gwajima, is an outspoken MP who has complained of 'creeping authoritarianism' in the country.
Witnesses described how police raided the church, even arresting a disabled woman in a wheelchair, dragging her away and throwing her into a police vehicle.
Mr. Gwajima has fled into hiding, leaving a prerecorded sermon in which he says: 'They can shut down the church, but they cannot shut down the people's spirit.'
Last Sunday, hundreds of his followers held a defiant outdoor service. 'We are not criminals,' said Rehema Moses, a long-time congregant. 'We are citizens exercising our right to believe.'
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Globe and Mail
21 hours ago
- Globe and Mail
Leader of Tanzania's main opposition party could face death penalty
The security at the court building was extraordinary: a rooftop sniper, police with dogs and tear-gas launchers, vans with darkened windows, and a small army of black-masked guards with armoured jackets and submachine guns. But the defendant in the courtroom is not a dangerous terrorist. He is a politician, a leader of Tanzania's main opposition party who faces a highly organized operation to prevent him from running in this year's election. Tundu Lissu, chairman of the Chadema party, is on trial for treason − a charge that carries the death penalty. His prosecution, protested by human-rights groups around the world, exposes the sharp decline of democracy in a country that Western donors have long favoured with billions of dollars in aid. Mr. Lissu has endured countless arrests and attacks over the past decade. In 2017, gunmen with assault rifles sprayed dozens of bullets at his vehicle, nearly killing him. After three years in exile and a long recovery in hospital from 16 bullet wounds, he returned fearlessly to politics, contesting Tanzania's 2020 election as an opposition candidate and finishing second in official results. This year, Tanzania's authoritarian government seems determined to prevent him from running again. His party has been banned from the October election after authorities accused it of failing to accept an electoral code of conduct. Many of its top officials, along with other activists, have been arrested or harassed in recent weeks. And now, Mr. Lissu faces a potential death sentence. He was arrested in April after he called for reforms in Tanzania's electoral system. 'This is not a normal trial,' the 57-year-old politician told the judge at his latest hearing on Monday. 'I have not been sentenced, yet I am held in the death-row block. I am watched night and day. I cannot speak to my lawyers in private. Not a single private conversation has been allowed.' From 2020: Gunshots and tear gas fail to deter Tanzanian opposition leader Tundu Lissu He described how two guards keep him under constant watch, day and night. He is even barred from joining other detainees in the prison's exercise yard. Instead, he is required to walk alone in a dirty drainage-ditch area. Because his conversations with his lawyers are closely monitored, Mr. Lissu told the court that it is impossible for him to discuss strategy with them and he will be obliged to defend himself without any lawyers. Wearing a shirt emblazoned with the opposition slogan – 'No reforms, no election' – he smiled and flashed a victory sign at local reporters. Outside the court, his supporters chanted his name and waved placards demanding justice, but their voices were nearly drowned out by police sirens. Most of his supporters were denied permission to enter the crowded courtroom. A senior Tanzanian official told The Globe and Mail that the government's goal is to keep Mr. Lissu in prison until after the October election, to prevent him from running. After the vote, he will be quietly released, the official said. The Globe is not identifying the official because he could face retribution from the authorities for speaking out. Tanzania has been governed by a single party since its independence in 1961. The ruling party, today known as Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM, the Revolutionary Party), has dominated all aspects of Tanzanian life and rarely tolerates much dissent. Its opponents have accused it of rigging recent elections to deliver huge majorities to CCM. Freedom House, a U.S.-based democracy and rights group, recently announced that it had downgraded Tanzania's status from 'partly free' to 'not free' because of the government's repressive measures. Despite this, Tanzania has remained a Western aid darling, and one of the largest recipients of Canadian foreign aid. Canada has provided $3.4-billion in international assistance to Tanzania since its independence, including $141-million in 2023-24, according to data from Global Affairs Canada. As the election approaches, a growing number of opposition politicians and activists have been kidnapped in what amount to 'enforced disappearances,' according to a report by United Nations human-rights experts. They described it as 'a flagrant tactic to suppress dissent.' In one of the most shocking cases, two activists from Kenya and Uganda who tried to attend Mr. Lissu's treason trial were arrested and disappeared for days. They were later dumped in remote border towns. Both gave detailed accounts of how they were tortured and sexually assaulted by Tanzanian security agents. Even churches have fallen victim to the crackdown. This month, authorities ordered the shutdown of a prominent church and arrested a dozen of its worshippers after its bishop criticized the disappearance of opposition activists. The bishop, Josephat Gwajima, is an outspoken MP who has complained of 'creeping authoritarianism' in the country. Witnesses described how police raided the church, even arresting a disabled woman in a wheelchair, dragging her away and throwing her into a police vehicle. Mr. Gwajima has fled into hiding, leaving a prerecorded sermon in which he says: 'They can shut down the church, but they cannot shut down the people's spirit.' Last Sunday, hundreds of his followers held a defiant outdoor service. 'We are not criminals,' said Rehema Moses, a long-time congregant. 'We are citizens exercising our right to believe.'
CBC
21 hours ago
- CBC
New IOC president Kirsty Coventry says she'll 'lead through collaboration'
Kirsty Coventry, the newly elected president of the International Olympic Committee, emphasized collaboration with stakeholders as a key priority for her tenure, in remarks made Thursday in Berlin ahead of her official takeover next week. Coventry, a former Olympic swimming champion from Zimbabwe and Africa's most decorated Olympian, was elected to the post in March, succeeding Thomas Bach. She will formally assume the role following Monday's handover ceremony in Lausanne, Switzerland. "I like to collaborate, to be able to listen, hear everyone's opinions. I think it is very important," Coventry said during an online media roundtable. "I also know I am the president and need to take decisions and that we need to move." Coventry, 41, is the first woman and the first African to lead the IOC. Her approach is expected to differ from her predecessor, as Bach was known for the rapid speed and volume of his decision-making and concentration of power. Bach's presidency was marked by wide-ranging reforms, including overhauling the Olympic bidding process, introducing new sports and reducing costs for host cities. He also navigated challenges such as the COVID-19 pandemic, which delayed the Tokyo 2020 Olympics and led to a spectator-free Beijing 2022 Winter Games. Coventry said the IOC would hold a two-day workshop for its members, starting on June 24, the day after the handover ceremony, as part of ongoing discussions with stakeholders on key issues. "It was not about title or power," she said when asked about her decision to run for president. "Sometimes those things get in the way and make you focus on the wrong things." Reflecting on her appointment, Coventry acknowledged the significance of her role as the first woman to lead the IOC. "It is not something I have thought about a lot in terms of impact it can have," she said. "In the past days now, I have a much greater understanding of that importance." The IOC generates annual revenues of several billion dollars and Coventry noted the "responsibility" that comes with leading the organization. "As we get closer to the 23rd, yes, it is an exciting day but a day with a lot of responsibility. I am very proud of the fact that we as members chose at this moment in time to elect the first female president," she added. Kirsty Coventry elected new IOC president 3 months ago Duration 7:29 41-year-old from Zimbabwe is first woman to hold the post, replacing Thomas Bach, who's held the job since 2013.
Globe and Mail
2 days ago
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The G7 is dead – time to move on to the G6
The summit of the Group of Seven is over, but really it was over long before its official ending. It was over before Donald Trump walked out part way through. If you want to know the truth, it was over before it began. It was over because the Group of Seven is over, at least in the sense in which it was originally envisaged: as a club of like-minded democracies, large enough and wealthy enough to be able, collectively, to set the global economic agenda. They're still large and wealthy, albeit not so much in relative terms: where the G7 countries accounted for roughly 70 per cent of world GDP in 1976, the year Canada joined, they now add up to just 45 per cent. What's really changed, however, is that they are no longer so like-minded – or, in one case, democratic. What's changed is that the United States elected Donald Trump. Again. It was possible, just, to pretend there was still a G7, and not a G6 plus one, during Mr. Trump's first term, when he was still, barely, reined in by his advisers. Even then it was somewhat farcical, as at the Charlevoix conference in 2018, when Mr. Trump first signed on to the closing communiqué, then unsigned it – via Twitter, naturally – after Justin Trudeau said something that offended him. Opinion: At the G7, Canada's globalist ambitions put our domestic problems in stark contrast But long before this year's conference, the first since Mr. Trump's re-election, it was evident how difficult it would be to sustain the pretense. Indeed, it was hard to see how Mr. Trump could even be invited. Never mind that, as a convicted felon, he would ordinarily be legally inadmissible to Canada. Never mind, too, that he had spent most of the time since his re-election menacing Canada in various ways, from the imposition (and removal, and re-imposition) of a variety of economy-destroying tariffs to his overt and repeated threats to coercively annex the country. Never mind, last, that he is at this moment attempting, via methods of escalating extremity, to turn the United States into a fascist dictatorship: not normally a ticket into the councils of democratic nations. What the G7 statements released by world leaders say and don't say No, what made this year's meeting of the G7 utterly absurd was that Mr. Trump shares none of the G7's declared aims. It is not merely that he disagrees with the consensus on this or that item on the agenda, or that he prefers a different route to a broadly shared aim. He is fundamentally opposed to everything the G7 stands for, including the G7: the very idea of independent nations attempting to work together for the common good – as opposed to major powers doing whatever they like – is anathema to him. The rest of the G7 are for liberal trade; Mr. Trump is against trade, or at least imports. They are for macroeconomic stability; Mr. Trump is for deficits without limit. They are for the collective defence of the democracies, and in particular for the defence of Ukraine. Mr. Trump is on the side of Russia, and the autocracies. And yet the only thing that the hosts of this year's G7 – Canada, as it happens – could think to do was to carry on as if nothing had changed. To be sure, it was decided in advance that there would be no closing communiqué, to avert another Charlevoix. But otherwise it was to be the same round of meetings, the same list of agenda items. Certainly there was good reason for the G6 to meet – mostly to consider how to deal with Mr. Trump. But the presence of Mr. Trump obliged them to genuflect publicly in his direction, as if he were still an ally and not an adversary; to praise him for his 'leadership,' even as they were privately plotting how to get around the obstacle he presented to their every ambition. It was as if a football team were to huddle with the other team's quarterback. Mr. Trump, for his part, did everything possible to advertise his disdain for the proceedings, and everyone involved. His first act on arriving was to lament that Vladimir Putin was not there, and to suggest that it might be nice in future to include China. He met privately with Prime Minister Mark Carney to discuss those tariffs of his, a meeting so unproductive – Mr. Trump made no commitment to even lower them – that the most it was even claimed to have yielded was an agreement to seek an agreement, which is no agreement at all. And then he left, ostensibly because he had pressing business to attend to re Iran. More likely he was just bored by the sheer pointlessness of it all. I can't say I blame him.
