There are moments in the political evolution of nations when irony becomes the only honest language left to describe reality. The Gambia of today, proudly parading its ever-lengthening line of political parties, has finally entered that stage. Our democracy has matured into a peculiar marvel, a wonderland in which every week ushers in yet another political party, each proclaiming to rescue the country from the clutches of misgovernance while simultaneously queuing to negotiate its own survival inside the orbit of the ruling establishment.
To the casual observer this proliferation of parties might appear like a sign of democratic progress. Some may even applaud it as the flowering of political plurality. However, to anyone paying close attention, the current explosion in the number of political parties reveals an irony of immense proportions. The more parties we create, the less democratic maturity we seem to achieve. The more fragmentation we produce, the easier we make it for the incumbent to consolidate power. In fact, multiparty politics in The Gambia has now become the very instrument through which longevity in power is strengthened.
This is the central irony of our era.
We boast of choice, yet our choices weaken us.
We celebrate plurality, yet plurality becomes the very tool through which unity is destroyed.
We chant the virtues of competition, yet the competition serves not the electorate but the incumbent.
A multiparty system or a multiparty circus?
Political parties are theoretically designed to offer meaningful alternatives in governance. They must stand for ideological clarity, national vision, and transformative programmes. However, in contemporary Gambia, the rapid increase in parties bears little resemblance to ideological diversification. Instead, it suggests a frenzy of political entrepreneurship where every ambitious figure seeks a personal platform rather than a national mission. We now boast more political parties than we have practical solutions. It is easier to register a political party than to reform a sector. It is easier to declare a presidential ambition than to manage a ward.
The irony deepens when one considers that most of these parties ultimately drift toward the gravitational pull of the incumbency. They first emerge with revolutionary language, promising liberation from the status quo, only to slowly negotiate their relevance through alliances that surrender the very principles upon which they claimed to stand. The result is a landscape flooded by parties that are theoretically independent but practically dependent.
The incumbency’s silent celebration
While citizens may express concern about political fragmentation, the incumbent quietly rejoices. The more splintered the opposition becomes, the more impregnable the seat of power becomes. It is a political equation so simple that even the most novice observer can decode it. Fragmentation equals weakened opposition. Weakened opposition equals strengthened incumbency. Yet we continue to multiply the very ingredients that cook our own political vulnerability.
The constitution still holds no provision for term limits. Constitutional reforms have remained stuck in bureaucratic limbo. Majority of the structural governance reforms that Gambians expected in the aftermath of 2017 remain unimplemented. But instead of directing collective energy toward ensuring these reforms materialise, we indulge ourselves in the never-ending musical chairs of party creation.
One cannot help but marvel at the irony. We want change, yet we scatter ourselves into twenty or more factions. We want accountability, yet we willingly weaken the very forces that should hold power accountable. We want institutional reform, yet we elevate personality cults over structural transformation.
The National Assembly and the politics of alliance survival
If the multiplication of parties were not ironic enough, the configuration of the National Assembly adds a second layer of political complexity. The National Assembly remains headed by a loyal member of the Yes to Alliance, Fabakary Tombong Jatta, whose political longevity is itself a testament to the strategic stability that alliances provide. Smaller parties that once proclaimed fierce independence now position themselves as coalition ornaments, eager to be seen as contributors to the incumbent’s governance stability.
The National People’s Party has become the core around which many smaller parties orbit. The National Reconciliation Party under Hamat Bah maintains its longstanding alignment with President Adama Barrow. The Gambia Party for Democracy and Progress under Henry Gomez continues its alliance with the ruling camp. Mai Fatty’s Gambia Moral Congress, once a fierce critic of the government, has now also moved into the larger architecture of the ruling alliance.
One could say these alliances are motivated by national interest, but the irony of their timing often suggests strategic survival over ideological unity. Parties that once threatened to unseat the incumbent now strive to outdo each other in demonstrating loyalty. Parties that claimed moral superiority now compete for relevance through proximity to power.
If all roads lead to NPP, then we must accept that most of these political parties now function less as alternatives and more as satellites. How then do we claim to have a vibrant multiparty democracy? What exactly do the proliferating party logos, mottos, and slogans offer if they all end up shading themselves under the same political umbrella?
The popularity of the incumbent and the 2025 Meet The People Tour
As the 2025 Meet The People Tour draws to a close, one observation stands out. The incumbent’s popularity appears to have increased. Crowds have swelled. Endorsements have multiplied. Regions have reaffirmed loyalty. Ministers have paraded achievements both real and imagined. The entire machinery of state presence has been utilised to reinforce the idea that continuity equals stability.
One must acknowledge the political brilliance behind such visibility. In a fragmented political arena where opposition parties lack collective direction, the incumbent’s national tour becomes a stage on which he plays the role of father of the nation, guardian of development, and protector of continuity. The symphony is predictable but effective. The government releases development promises. Communities welcome the delegation. The media amplifies the spectacle. The fragmented opposition can hardly compete.
Again the irony is unmistakable.
The increasing number of parties fuels the incumbent’s popularity.
The weaker the opposition appears, the stronger the incumbent becomes.
The more divided the political field becomes, the more the ruling party projects itself as the only coherent option.
Budgetary struggles and the harsh realities of governance
Yet behind the political theatre lies a sobering truth. Various ministries are struggling with the budget allocated to them. Despite the political confidence projected across the country, the fiscal reality remains precarious. The Ministry of Finance, under the leadership of Minister Seedy Keita, confronts immense pressure to reconcile ambition with revenue. The draft budget requires deeper scrutiny that reflects the realities on the ground. Inflationary stress, revenue shortfalls, and rising obligations threaten effective service delivery.
In an ideal democracy, political parties would channel their intellectual resources into proposing alternative fiscal policies, innovative revenue strategies, and coherent national development plans. But when parties multiply without ideological depth, fiscal discourse becomes shallow. Parties that should draft alternative budgets instead spend more time debating alliances, defections, and political positioning.
This is where the tragedy becomes clearer. The proliferation of parties has not expanded political ideas. It has only expanded political noise. The country needs reform in agriculture, education, healthcare, and infrastructure. Instead, we receive manifesto promises recycled from past elections. We need a robust debate on fiscal transparency, yet the loudest political discussion is often about who has defected to which camp.
The role of citizens in preventing divisiveness
If Gambians are to build a mature democracy, we must avoid falling into the trap of perpetual divisiveness. Multiparty democracy does not mean multiplying divisions. It means multiplying ideas, broadening representation, and strengthening accountability. Citizens must resist the temptation to treat politics as tribes. We must reject personalised politics that reduces governance to fan clubs.
The greatest danger is that fragmentation will continue to weaken the collective voice of the electorate. When political parties become more numerous than development plans, the citizen loses. When alliances become more about survival than vision, the nation loses. When political loyalty becomes more valued than competence, institutions lose.
The irony of our era must not blind us to our responsibility. It is citizens who must demand reforms. It is citizens who must insist on constitutional changes including term limits. It is citizens who must scrutinize budgets, policies, and political performances. It is citizens who must resist manipulative narratives that portray fragmentation as freedom.
The need for true political maturity
The Gambia stands at a crossroads. We can either allow the multiplication of political parties to transform our democracy into a circus where every performer seeks applause, or we can elevate the political process by insisting on ideological clarity and national accountability.
The irony of our current reality is not destiny. It is only a warning. Political maturity requires courage. It requires discipline. It requires the humility to recognise that no nation develops through division. It requires the honesty to acknowledge that the incumbent remains strong partly because the opposition has weakened itself. It requires the foresight to understand that constitutional reforms are not luxuries but necessities.
We must therefore rise above the ironies of our political moment. We must build parties that stand for ideas, not alliances. We must prioritise national interest over personal ambition. We must demand governance that responds to the conditions of the people, not the ambitions of politicians.
Conclusion
As The Gambia moves closer to the next political cycle, we must face the truth with clear eyes. The proliferation of political parties has not strengthened our democracy. It has splintered it. The alliances that decorate our political landscape have not unified us. They have obscured ideological purpose. The absence of term limits continues to cast a long shadow over democratic sustainability. The incumbent’s growing popularity reflects both his own political strategy and the disorganisation of the opposition. The fiscal struggles of ministries remind us that governance is not theatrical performance but practical management.
The irony is painful but undeniable.
We claim that multiparty democracy empowers us.
Yet it is precisely this multiplication that strengthens incumbency and weakens accountability.
If The Gambia is to truly advance, then the time has come to transcend these ironies and confront reality with purpose. We must build a political culture that values unity, reform, accountability, and national vision. Otherwise, our democracy will continue to expand in numbers while shrinking in meaning.
