By Mohammed Jallow
The debate on presidential term limits in The Gambia has dragged on for more than two decades, circling from promise to disappointment, from aspiration to inertia, and from public outcry to deep national silence. Although the conversation never truly disappears, it remains suspended somewhere between political theatre and public frustration. The Gambia finds itself in a paradox. A nation that loudly demands democratic standards but rarely demonstrates the civic resolve required to enforce them. A citizenry that criticises its leaders yet hesitates to confront its own complacency. A political culture that celebrates accountability but remains entangled in loyalty politics, personality worship, and generational fear of change.
To fully understand the challenge of term limits in The Gambia, one must begin with the Constitution. The 1997 Constitution, despite its many flaws, provides the legal anchor of the state. It does not impose presidential term limits. That absence has shaped twenty years of leadership practice, political interpretation, and institutional behaviour. Successive leaders have spoken about term limits. They have invoked the moral necessity of limiting executive power. They have acknowledged the dangers of entrenched incumbency. Yet none has taken meaningful action. The result is a country that debates term limits but never adopts them, demands accountability but never institutionalises it, and demands change but never delivers the civic pressure required to trigger it.
The story is long and messy. It stretches from the era of former President Yahya Jammeh who repeatedly declared that he supported term limits but never introduced the legislative reforms needed to establish them. Jammeh mentioned term limits in state addresses, at rallies, and in conversations with international actors. Yet he governed for twenty two years without a single attempt to constitutionally bind himself. His claim that term limits were necessary never matched his political behaviour. The contradiction was obvious. But the silence of citizens, institutions, and political actors was even louder.
Then came the Barrow era. President Barrow entered office on a wave of democratic enthusiasm. He championed reform. He declared publicly that The Gambia needed term limits and institutional renewal. He promised to serve as a transitional figure who would restore constitutional order. His administration embarked on the task of drafting a new Constitution. The draft Constitution was celebrated across the nation for its progressive values and its reintroduction of presidential term limits. For the first time in Gambian history, there was national consensus on the necessity of limiting executive power.
Yet that Constitution collapsed in the National Assembly. And the truth, if we are honest with ourselves, is that the collapse was not solely the fault of the executive. It was not solely the fault of Barrow or solely that of his supporters. It was a political drama in which almost every actor carried a portion of responsibility. The National Assembly fragmented along party lines. Political parties saw the draft Constitution through the lens of electoral calculation rather than national interest. Citizens expressed frustration on social platforms but did not marshal the organised civic pressure needed to hold representatives accountable. Civil society protested but lacked the unified force required to make constitutional reform a non negotiable national demand. The Constitution was tossed aside, and with it the opportunity to institutionalise term limits.
What followed was a painful irony. The early days of the Barrow administration witnessed a constitutional amendment that removed the upper age limit for presidential candidates. Many political observers understood that amendment as a direct accommodation for the eligibility of Ousainu Darboe, the longstanding leader of the United Democratic Party. The speed with which that amendment passed exposed a double standard. The National Assembly and political actors demonstrated their capacity to amend the Constitution when it suited partisan interests. Yet when the issue was term limits, the same urgency, courage, and political will vanished.
This contradiction reveals a deeper problem. It shows that our political class can amend the Constitution when it favours them but remains reluctant when the reform restricts them. It also reveals something uncomfortable about the Gambian electorate. We, the citizens, have tolerated this inconsistency. We have reacted loudly on social media but done little in organised civic action. We have criticised leaders but refused to confront political parties with sustained pressure. We have voted repeatedly for the same political elites and celebrated the same personalities who preside over the stagnation we condemn.
The problem is not simply the law. The problem is the national culture around power. For decades, The Gambia has operated under a political psychology shaped by fear, survival instinct, and excessive politeness. Many citizens avoid confronting their leaders because they fear victimisation. Others avoid confrontation because they seek favour. Many view politics as an instrument of personal gain rather than collective duty. The result is a culture where leaders feel comfortable ignoring reform because there is no consequence for ignoring it.
This cultural problem is not limited to the executive. It extends into political parties. A country that demands term limits from the presidency should demonstrate the same example within its political parties. Yet the opposite is the case. Ousainu Darboe has served as the leader of the United Democratic Party for more than twenty one years. His leadership remains unchallenged, uninterrupted, and unexamined by internal democratic standards. The same pattern exists in several other parties. Leadership remains fixed. Succession remains imaginary. Renewal remains a distant dream.
If political parties cannot practice internal term limits, how can they credibly demand presidential term limits The moral burden of consistency falls on them. It is hypocritical to demand democratic standards from the executive when political parties themselves do not embody those standards.
Civil society too must accept responsibility. Civil society organisations speak courageously at conferences, workshops, and international events. But true civil society strength lies in grassroots mobilisation, constant civic education, and direct pressure on state institutions. Civil society must move beyond commentary and position papers. It must confront the political culture head on. It must build a generation of citizens who understand that democracy requires sacrifice, confrontation, and persistence.
The National Assembly bears an even greater responsibility. The Assembly is the guardian of the Constitution. It is the institution where national values should be codified, not politicised. Yet the Assembly has repeatedly allowed political alignment to overshadow constitutional duty. The draft Constitution failed because members placed party interest above the national interest. Some feared losing political advantage. Others succumbed to the internal wrangling of political allies. By rejecting the draft Constitution, the Assembly denied the nation the chance to establish term limits and institutional reform.
The executive must also confront its own contradictions. President Barrow has repeatedly declared that term limits are necessary for democratic maturity. He has publicly aligned himself with the principle. Yet his administration has not delivered the reform. The political capital required to revive constitutional reform remains unused. The President’s famous remark that it is not easy like that, though perhaps intended to reflect political realism, inadvertently reveals the core problem of leadership hesitation.
If something is good for the nation, then it must be made easy through political courage. Leadership is not about convenience. It is about prioritising national progress even when it disrupts personal ambition.
The citizens, on their part, must embrace their role as guardians of democracy. In a republic, political change does not emerge from the goodwill of leaders alone. It emerges from the collective resolve of the people. Citizens must understand that democracy cannot thrive when they remain passive. They must engage in civic education. They must hold representatives accountable through petitions, peaceful protests, constituency dialogue forums, and collective mobilisation. They must challenge political parties to democratise. They must reject systems that reward personality politics over institutional stability. They must refuse to elevate leaders beyond accountability.
The question then becomes, who is responsible for the absence of term limits Is it the leader Is it the law Is it the culture The honest answer is that it is all three at the same time. A weak constitution without term limits creates the legal vacuum. Leaders without the courage to amend the law create the political vacuum. Citizens who remain hesitant to demand reform create the civic vacuum. This three layered weakness forms the triangle of stagnation that has kept The Gambia trapped in constitutional limbo.
The way forward demands a unified strategy. The Constitution must be revived and reformed. The National Assembly must place constitutional reform on the legislative agenda. Political parties must practise internal term limits. Civil society must build grassroots momentum. Citizens must develop the culture of civic defiance when national interests are threatened. The executive must lead with courage and consistency.
The Gambia cannot continue in a cycle of constitutional convenience where amendments are approved only when they benefit political actors but ignored when they protect national stability. We cannot continue celebrating leaders who speak about democracy but avoid institutionalising it. We cannot continue demanding change while refusing to practice the values that produce that change.
Term limits are not simply a political request. They are a safeguard against tyranny. They protect the nation from power intoxication. They ensure leadership renewal. They prevent personalisation of state authority. They enhance accountability. They strengthen institutions. They build trust. They reassure citizens that no leader, no matter how popular, can remain indefinitely. Without term limits, the country depends on the goodwill of leaders rather than the strength of institutions. Democracies are not sustained by goodwill. They are sustained by frameworks that restrict, regulate, and distribute power.
As Gambians, we must be frank with ourselves. We must confront our own contradictions. We demand term limits yet tolerate lifetime political leaders. We demand constitutional reform yet vote for representatives who stall it. We demand accountability yet remain entangled in the politics of tribe, region, and personal loyalty. We demand progress yet fear confrontation. We demand equality yet celebrate hierarchy. We demand change yet refuse to build the civic pressure required to force it.
If The Gambia truly wants term limits, then the nation must act deliberately and collectively. The time for excuses has passed. The time for fear has expired. The time for half hearted promises has ended. The future demands courage, honesty, and strategic unity.
The responsibility lies not only with the leaders but also with the people. A nation that remains silent cannot complain when power remains unchecked. A nation that refuses to mobilise cannot claim to be denied reform. A nation that fears its own voice cannot expect its leaders to be brave.
The Gambia must decide what kind of democracy it wants. A democracy built on rhetoric or a democracy built on institutions A democracy that protects individuals or a democracy that protects the nation A democracy that repeats its mistakes or a democracy that learns from them
Term limits are not a luxury. They are the foundation of a stable republic. They are the protection of future generations. They are the antidote to political stagnation. They are the guarantee that leadership will never become inheritance.
If we want them, we must work for them. If we demand them, we must enforce them. If we believe in them, we must practice them.
The future of The Gambia depends on the choices we make today.
