Tanzania is a diverse society; if you want uniformity, join the army or put on a collar

Our brand-spanking new draft constitution is finally out for public debate.

When I encountered the list of “national values,” which must be six, maybe seven strong, I realised just how arduous a task it must have been to try to embody all the aspirations of a nation through a new constitution.

I am of the opinion that once you get past the number three when listing something like national values, you are on shaky ground and in danger of starting to dictate behaviours for a United Republic.

This kind of paternalism may have been fine in 1960 —during the heyday of people “fathering” (never mothering) nations, but it comes across poorly in the 21st century.

There have been complaints that the draft constitution is too long — the Kiswahili version runs to 107 pages — and there might be some truth to that. Legalese always feels at least 10 times as long as regular prose, so 107 pages of constitution is in fact a 1,070-page tome to the rest of us humans who do not have lawyerly superpowers.

But perhaps this length is necessary, at least in the first instance. It is probably the unavoidable outcome of trying to represent the various concerns that were raised by citizens during the initial consultative process.

And what a consultative process it must have been. This is a seminal point in the evolution of our modern nation-state. As several commentators and civilians have pointed out, we’re talking about the constitution.

And not only is the constitution actually wide open for discussion, the discussion is being allowed to roam relatively freely in our public spaces.

There is a tantalising possibility that the will of the people — well, of the enfranchised majority anyway — may actually direct the government. This is pretty heady stuff for us. Free, at last.

Because in fact this is the first time that Tanzanians are being invited into the kitchen where their politics get cooked up. Constitution after constitution has passed the people by, handled by “experts” who wouldn’t have conceived of involving the rabble in a discussion as sensitive as how the country should be run.

A near-monarchy in republican drag, complete with pockets of secrecy and ritual and inheritance of power as entrenched by the Grand Old Party.

Retrospectively, it is possible to understand, perhaps even justify, the way in which things developed politically during the first few decades after Independence.

Part of the fascination that Nyerere holds as a statesman was his capacity to simultaneously be a democratic populist in spirit and shockingly dictatorial in action. Was this a unique mix that was advantageous for the Herculean task of creating a relatively coherent polity out of the raw materials? Perhaps.

In forging this mostly united, somewhat functional country, a lot of things had to be done, mistakes were committed, hard decisions were taken, people suffered.

It wasn’t all roses and socialist work anthems — the people always pay. And that’s partly what this new constitution is addressing, perhaps indirectly, but nonetheless: The wounds of the past.

One of the beautiful effects of this new constitution drafting is the opportunity for catharsis. All the issues that have been festering thanks to our habit of suppressing debate have come bubbling right up; the least we can do is give them an airing.

Take, for example, the very idea of being Tanzanian. This brings me back to that suggested list of National Values.

During a radio debate recently, a concerned citizen tweeted their dismay that God is missing from the draft constitution. Others have been expressing fears that unless we design a one-size-fits-all cultural identity as expressed via dress and mannerisms then our very nationhood will be at stake.

Yet others made grumbling noises about preserving “our African traditions.” Why are we so obsessed with this false idea of homogeneity, anyways?

Tanzania, here and now, is a diverse country that will only get more diffuse in its identity. If individuals need uniforms and regulations, let them join the army or the clergy.

So long as we are pursuing freedom, rights, self-determination and prosperity, we must commit to the practice of accommodating each other. It’s going to be a protracted and gloriously messy process that will only succeed if we deal with each other honestly.

Elsie Eyakuze is an independent consultant and blogger for The Mikocheni Report, http://mikochenireport.blogspot.com. E-mail: [email protected]