There is a dangerous pattern taking root across East Africa: when confronted with uncomfortable truths, governments are increasingly choosing propaganda, denial, and digital repression over accountability and dialogue. It is the oldest authoritarian reflex: bury your head in the sand, deny citizens’ lived experiences, and drown out dissent with noise. Yet history shows that this strategy never works in the long run, and often makes the eventual fallout far more explosive. Tanzania’s recent response to the shocking CNN investigation showing police fatally shooting protesters and signs of mass graves is a clear example. Rather than engage with the evidence, the Government Spokesperson swiftly dismissed the investigation as “unprofessional and unacceptable,” accusing neighbouring countries of pushing “propaganda” to tarnish Tanzania’s image. This defensiveness is complemented by the suppression of protest footage through a near-total internet blackout and threats to jail anyone sharing post-election violence videos. It was a calculated attempt to control perception rather than address the disturbing reality on the ground. But governments must learn a simple lesson: you can blackout the internet, but you cannot blackout reality.
Kenya offers a similar mirror. Amnesty International’s recent report, “This Fear, Everyone is Feeling It,” reveals that instead of addressing the legitimate grievances raised by the 2024 Gen Z protests, the Kenyan government allegedly deployed government-paid bloggers, the notorious “527 bloggers”, to wage an information war against its own people. These bloggers were tasked with attacking critics, spreading hateful or dehumanizing messages, drowning out protest hashtags, and branding activists as “foreign agents,” “liars,” or “paid.” The disinformation was coordinated, state-linked, and strategic. It included false narratives that the protests were driven by “LGBTI agendas” and constituted an attack on “family values,” even circulating AI-generated images of same-sex couples supposedly kissing at demonstrations to stir moral panic and erode public sympathy. It was a textbook case of weaponizing propaganda to delegitimize public discontent and sanitize the state’s image.
The danger of such propaganda-driven governance is profound. First, it deepens distrust. A state that lies to its people even once creates a credibility deficit that cannot easily be repaired. Citizens stop believing official statements, even when they are true. Second, propaganda delays real solutions. It may silence agitation temporarily, but it does not fix unemployment, police brutality, corruption, or the rising cost of living. Silence is not peace; it is pressure, and pressure always bursts. Third, it increases the likelihood of conflict. When people are denied visibility, their anger simmers. When their truth is denied, their resolve hardens. Fourth, propaganda damages international reputation far more than transparency ever could. Attempts to “save face” often end up making governments appear insecure, repressive, and detached from reality, a classic example is Tanzania’s current international reputation.
But there are alternatives that work. Governments can acknowledge citizens’ grievances, a strategy that has proven effective in places like South Africa, where acknowledgment and accountability have, to some extent, played key roles in political healing. They can engage citizens directly, following models like Iceland’s and Taiwan’s, where digital platforms enable the public to co-create policies and turn outrage into constructive dialogue. They can permit free media and independent investigations, as seen in Kenya’s own past Truth Justice and Reconciliation Commission (TJRC), which provided essential truth-telling and a call for accountability. Governments can also strengthen oversight bodies, learning from countries like Sierra Leone that instituted independent mechanisms to address police violence. They can replace propaganda with strategic communication that explains decisions, addresses fears, and respects public intelligence, exemplified by New Zealand’s global leadership in honest, compassionate crisis communication. And crucially, they can protect rather than suppress dissent. Countries that safeguard peaceful protests, like Norway and Denmark, consistently experience higher trust and long-term stability because they understand that allowing people to express grievances is far safer than suppressing dissent.
Ultimately, every government faces moments when its legitimacy is tested. In those moments, it must choose between confronting the truth and suppressing it. One path leads to stability, evolution, and trust; the other leads to fragile peace built on fear and silence. Tanzania’s defensive denials, Kenya’s blogger-for-hire disinformation networks, and similar strategies in other states are not signs of strong leadership; they are symptoms of governments afraid of their own citizens. And the young, connected, politically awakened generation across Africa can easily distinguish strength from insecurity. Governments must decide whether to fear their people or serve them, because burying their heads in the sand does not stop the storm. It only ensures they never see it coming.
Mathias T. Kinyoda is Amnesty International Kenya Public Communications and Engagement Manager and writes in his personal capacity. Email: [email protected]