“LEADERSHIP communication does not begin when leaders speak. It begins when they create the confidence for others to speak first.”
We were gathered at Kunduchi Hotel during one of the Tanzania Communications Regulatory Authority’s Annual Broadcaster’s Conferences.
Around the room sat television station owners, broadcast engineers, media executives, government officials and regulators.
The subject before us was Broadcasting Digital Migration, a phrase that sounded technical enough to discourage anyone who was not an engineer.
Professor John Nkoma, the then Director General of TCRA, paused, looked around the conference room and smiled.
After his opening keynote speech, He quietly said, “Before I stop, tell me what is worrying you.” For a brief moment, the room fell silent. Then a TV owner rose to his feet.
“Professor… why are we rushing?” Another voice quickly followed. “The international deadline is still years away. Why not wait?” A third participant asked what many others were already thinking. ”
Who is going to pay for all these changes?” Within minutes, the conference room had transformed into something far more valuable than a technical meeting. It had become an honest conversation.
At the time, I was serving as TCRA’s Spokesperson and Manager for Corporate Communication. My responsibility was to help communicate one of the biggest technological transitions Tanzania had ever undertaken.
Yet as I sat listening that morning, I realised I was witnessing something much bigger than a discussion about television broadcasting in Tanzania.
I was watching Leadership Communication in action. Professor John Sydney Nkoma never interrupted anyone. He did not dismiss concerns or defend the Authority’s position.
He allowed every question to surface because he understood a simple truth that many leaders still overlook today: people support what they understand and they understand what they are first allowed to question.
Looking back after all these years, I have often returned to that meeting. Not because it was dramatic. Not because decisions were made. But because it revealed the greatest challenge we faced. The challenge was never technology. It was trust.
Outside that conference room, life was carrying on as usual. Every evening, millions of Tanzanians switched on their television sets without giving a second thought to the invisible radio frequencies delivering pictures into their homes.
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Broadcasters continued transmitting through analogue systems that had served the country faithfully for decades.
Television simply worked. Why change something that already worked? It was a question many people were asking.
The answer, however had begun taking shape far beyond Tanzania’s borders.
The International Telecommunication Union (ITU), the United Nations specialised agency responsible for information and communication technologies, had reached a global agreement that the analogue broadcasting era had to come to an end.
Across the world, countries were preparing to migrate to digital terrestrial television.
The objective was much bigger than improving picture quality. Digital technology would use radio spectrum far more efficiently, create room for more television channels and release valuable frequencies that would later support emerging wireless technologies, including broadband services that have since become central to our digital economy. The world had made its decision.
The question before Tanzania was whether to wait for the deadline of June 2015 or prepare ahead of it. Waiting would have been the easier option. Preparing early required leadership. It also required communication.
That was perhaps the first lesson many of us involved in the programme came to appreciate. Major national reforms do not fail because the technology is weak.
They fail because the conversation begins too late. For that reason, TCRA did something many people never saw.
Long before the first decoder box appeared and years before ordinary citizens heard the phrase digital migration, the Authority began communicating with a completely different audience.
The broadcasters. The annual broadcasters’ conferences became working sessions rather than ceremonial gatherings. Consultation papers were circulated and debated openly.
Engineers translated highly technical concepts into practical implications. Broadcasters challenged assumptions. Government officials (Ministry responsible for Broadcasting) sought clarification.
Every difficult question was welcomed because every unanswered question had the potential to become tomorrow’s public resistance.
The discussions were not always comfortable. Broadcasters had invested heavily in analogue transmission infrastructure. Many wondered why Tanzania appeared determined to move ahead while other countries still seemed content to wait.
Others questioned the proposed separation of signal distribution from programme production. There were understandable concerns about investment, business models and implementation costs. These were not voices resisting progress.
They were voices seeking certainty. One of the enduring lessons from my experience in strategic communication is that resistance is often misunderstood.
Institutions frequently interpret difficult questions as opposition. In reality, many questions are simply requests for understanding.
When people are treated with respect, given facts instead of assumptions and invited into the conversation, scepticism often becomes ownership. That was exactly what I watched happen over the following years.
Under Professor John Nkoma’s leadership and through the technical stewardship of the then TCRA Director of Broadcasting, Mr Habbi Gunze, communication was never treated as an activity to be undertaken after technical decisions had been completed.
It became part of implementation itself. Presentations were made across government. Parliament was engaged as legislation evolved to support the transition.
Annual broadcasters’ conferences became opportunities to build confidence rather than merely share information. Slowly, something remarkable began to happen.
The questions started changing. The conversation was no longer about whether Tanzania should migrate. It became about how Tanzania could migrate successfully.
That shift may appear subtle, but in strategic communication it marks the difference between resistance and commitment.
Years later, when the public campaign eventually reached homes across the country through television, radio, newspapers, roadshows and community engagement, many people assumed the campaign had just begun. In truth, it had started years earlier in conference rooms like the one at Kunduchi Beach Hotel.
It began with a leader who chose to listen before he chose to speak to announce a decision. The public would eventually remember the decoder boxes; the countdowns and the day analogue television disappeared from our screens.
Few would ever know that the real migration had started much earlier. It began when minds changed before technology did. And that was only the beginning of the story.
Yet winning the confidence of broadcasters and policymakers was only half the journey. The greater challenge still lay ahead. How do you explain a highly technical global policy to millions of ordinary Tanzanians?
How do you persuade families to invest in decoder boxes for a change they neither requested nor fully understood? And how do you ensure that, on the day analogue signals finally went silent, the nation saw not confusion, but progress?
Those questions gave birth to one of the best and largest public communication campaigns Tanzania had ever undertaken, a story that deserves its own chapter.
Find out next week Friday how to find out if the Communication Strategy for the Campaign was handled and if it was or not successful.
The post Before TV Screens Went Dark: The untold story of Tanzania’s digital migration communication campaign (part one) appeared first on Daily News.
