By Rtd Lt Colonel Samsudeen Sarr
As dawn broke over the Atlantic Tuesday morning, 10th June, 2025, I undertook my customary ritual of heading to the beach for a rejuvenating swim. Immersed in the lukewarm waters of the Atlantic Ocean, I allowed the tides to wash away mental clutter before settling onto the sand, phone in hand, searching the digital horizon for a spark of inspiration.
This has become a personal tradition — an informal writer’s retreat — particularly useful when the muse grows reticent. As I browsed through online headlines, a few intriguing themes emerged. I didn’t ferret in deeply into the articles themselves, but the mere thrust of their titles was enough to stir my thoughts and compel a commentary on the current political milieu of our nation.
One particular headline attributed to the amir of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Jama’at in The Gambia resonated with me. It framed Eid al-Adha, commonly referred to as Tobaski, as a sacred time for self-reflection. Though I find little urgency at this stage in my life to undertake a personal audit, I do believe this is a fitting moment for collective introspection and political forecasting as The Gambia inches closer to the critical 2026 presidential election.
Among the more eye-catching headlines was one published in The Standard on 5th June, 2025: “Jeggan Calls for National Dialogue for a United Opposition”. Accompanying the headline was a photograph of prominent opposition figures — Ousainu Darboe of the UDP, Halifa Sallah of PDOIS, Essa Faal of Sobeya, and Mamma Kandeh of the GDC. The call for unity is noble, if not nostalgic. I am unsure who this Jeggan is, but the plea smacks of a yearning for a reprise of the 2016 Coalition triumph, an extraordinary convergence that, I daresay, is unlikely to be replicated. I shall elaborate momentarily.
Elsewhere, the proliferation of political movements continues at a frenetic pace. New parties are being championed by Oustass Musa Jallow, another breakaway faction from President Barrow’s NPP under the stewardship of Mr Kebba Madi Bojang, and others by Momodou Bah, former Vice President Bakary Bunja Dabo, and most recently, former diplomat Essa Bokar Sey. Sey even issued a dramatic caveat to President Barrow, urging him not to seek re-election, portraying such a move as tantamount to a constitutionally forbidden third term.
That claim, however, does not hold water. The 1997 Constitution, still the supreme law of the land, places no limit on presidential terms. Unless a new constitution (such as the still-dormant drafts of 2020 or 2024) is passed and explicitly applied retroactively — which seems highly improbable before 2026 — President Barrow is within his legal rights to seek another term. And rightly so.
To be clear, I have consistently advocated for presidential term limits. In my 2000 manuscript, Coup D’état by the Gambia National Army (published in 2007 by Xlibris), I emphatically called for a two-term ceiling on the presidency. On page 142, Chapter 11, I wrote: “After thirty years of the same leader, the country should never allow a president to stay in power for more than two terms of five years each — a maximum of ten years.”
That sentiment was embedded in the original draft of the inaugural policy speech I was commissioned to write for the Armed Forces Provisional Ruling Council (AFPRC) in 1994. Alas, that key clause was excised before Chairman Yahya Jammeh delivered the speech on Radio Gambia. I collaborated closely with the late journalist and literary icon Swaebou Conateh to finalise that document, a fact uncontested until 2018.
To this day, I remain convinced that long-term incumbency, particularly in post-colonial African states, poses an existential threat to democratic governance. It breeds an insidious addiction to power and often mutates into authoritarianism. Term limits would not only institutionalise accountability but also reinforce the temporariness of political power. Unless, of course, leaders choose to emulate the perilous paths of Alpha Condé in Guinea, Macky Sall in Senegal, or Alassane Ouattara in Côte d’Ivoire. Thankfully, Senegal turned a corner in 2024 when courageous leaders defied that very trend. It was painful but necessary.
Returning to my beachside reflections, another headline piqued my interest. It featured Mamma Kandeh of the GDC party, who publicly dispelled long-circulating assumptions that he had already entered into a political alliance with Barrow’s NPP. While affirming no such deal exists, he left the door open to future collaboration, a considerable shift for a man who has historically eschewed any overtures toward Barrow.
More provocatively, Kandeh posited that, apart from his GDC, Barrow’s NPP, and Darboe’s UDP, no other party currently commands meaningful grassroots support. In his view, the GDC could emerge as the decisive swing actor in 2026, willing to tilt the scale in exchange for political concessions, provided leadership remains in Barrow’s hands.
This leads me to an analytical forecast.
President Barrow will contest in 2026, and as before, he will extend an olive branch to any party willing to join his camp. Should Mamma Kandeh align with him, some form of political accommodation may be anticipated — but Barrow will not relinquish the helm.
On the other side, the UDP remains the most formidable opposition bloc in terms of voter base. However, any viable coalition, such as the one Jeggan proposes, will likely falter unless Darboe is allowed to lead. The UDP has made this stipulation unmistakably clear. It is a reality that all potential partners must accept if a unified opposition is to materialise.
That said, if the UDP earnestly seeks victory in 2026, it must be willing to engage in political realpolitik, including forming alliances with unlikely and even controversial partners, such as the APRC. Emotional baggage and past traumas cannot be permitted to sabotage strategic opportunity. Gambian politics is less about ideology or principle and more about arithmetic. The road to State House is paved with numbers, not sentiment and insults.
This, ultimately, is why President Barrow remains the man to beat. Despite the criticisms he routinely faces, he is open to dialogue, more accommodating than many of his adversaries, and, crucially, he enjoys the indisputable edge of incumbency.
As the tides of Tobaski roll in, perhaps it is not just individuals who must reflect, but political actors, too. For in the delicate game of Gambian democracy, clarity, compromise, and coalition may well prove more valuable than charisma or conviction alone.
