In the heart of Perth, Western Australia, the Africa Down Under Conference once again drew a crowd of senior officials, mining executives, and international delegates in September 2025. For over two decades, this annual gathering has showcased Australia’s growing interests in Africa’s mining and energy sectors. But this year, the conference’s energy was matched by a sense of unease, thanks to a looming political crossroads thousands of miles away in Guinea.
Guinea’s Minister for Planning and International Cooperation, Ismael Nabé, took the stage and described his country as “the most Australian country in Africa.” It wasn’t just a throwaway line. Both nations, he explained, share a deep reliance on mining and agriculture. The comparison is more than skin-deep: Guinea is home to Simandou, the world’s largest undeveloped high-grade iron ore deposit, where Australian mining giant Rio Tinto has long had a stake. Just this month, according to reporting from the Australian Financial Review, Rio Tinto and its partners secured tax discounts of more than 50% from Guinea’s government on key parts of the massive $35 billion Simandou project.
The Guinean government has pledged that revenues from the so-called “Simandou 2040” initiative will be channeled into social spending, including scholarships for Guinean students to study abroad—Australia among the destinations. For the mining sector, this is big news. Yet, as optimism buzzed in Perth, a far more somber mood gripped Guinea’s capital, Conakry, where the country’s political future hangs in the balance.
The conference coincided with the fourth anniversary of Guinea’s 2021 coup. On September 5, 2021, Colonel (now General) Mamady Doumbouya ousted President Alpha Condé, promising a swift return to constitutional order. That promise has since faded. The transition has slipped, and what was once described as a political “transition” is now called a “refoundation” of the state—a term that signals a much broader, and perhaps indefinite, overhaul of Guinea’s political system.
The stakes are high. On Sunday, September 21, 2025, Guineans are set to vote in a referendum on a new constitution. According to Reuters, the proposed constitution would allow Doumbouya—the very leader who vowed not to run for president after his coup—to stand as a candidate. The original transition charter, adopted in the aftermath of the coup, specifically barred junta members from running in upcoming elections. Ominously, that safeguard is absent from the new draft.
Doumbouya’s intentions remain unclear. He has yet to declare his candidacy, but a nationwide campaign has elevated his public profile, and many observers see the referendum as a proxy vote on his leadership. The environment leading up to the referendum has been anything but even-handed. The Ministry of Territorial Administration and Decentralisation (MTAD) is managing the elections directly, bypassing the independent commission process. State resources have been heavily deployed for the “Yes” campaign, with rallies, cultural events, and even sports used to drum up support.
The opposition, meanwhile, has been muzzled. Exiled opposition leader Cellou Dalein Diallo, whose Union of Democratic Forces party is suspended, called on Guineans to boycott what he described as a “masquerade.” Diallo is not alone. The party of ousted President Alpha Condé is also suspended, with both groups barred from campaigning against the new constitution. The government cites administrative and financial disclosure violations as justification, but critics see a calculated effort to sideline dissent.
Human Rights Watch has accused Doumbouya’s government of forcibly disappearing political opponents and arbitrarily suspending media outlets. The government denies involvement in disappearances but has promised investigations. Since 2023, several media outlets have been shuttered, reducing Guineans’ access to balanced information at a crucial time. The climate of repression has only deepened: forced disappearances, torture, and judicial harassment of opposition leaders and journalists have become more common, according to Reuters and the International Crisis Group.
Public protests have been banned since 2022, with political parties largely confined to their offices. A sweeping review by MTAD led to the suspension and dissolution of numerous parties—moves widely seen as attempts to destabilize the opposition. Exiled leaders, including Diallo and Condé, risk imprisonment if they return, effectively excluding them from political life.
The mechanics of the referendum itself have raised eyebrows. A campaign to enroll voters for a new electoral roll was held, but the absence of an independent audit has fueled skepticism, especially in a country with a history of disputed voter lists. Distribution of voter cards began on September 6, 2025, but critics worry that the process could be used to suppress turnout in opposition strongholds. More than 6.7 million voters are registered, and the constitution will pass if more than 50% of votes cast approve it.
Guinea’s new constitution would extend presidential terms from five to seven years, renewable once, and establish a Senate, of which the president would directly appoint one-third of the members. The rest would be chosen by municipal and regional councils. For some, like civil servant Ibrahima Camara, who told Reuters, “It’s the most clear-sighted choice. We need a vote so Guinea can be governed by a constitution, a first step towards normalising the country.”
But skepticism runs deep in opposition strongholds. Abdoulaye Diallo, a resident of Hamdallaye in Conakry, said, “I won’t vote because the process isn’t transparent. You can’t talk about voting in Guinea without the main parties. In the long run, this will create unnecessary tensions.”
The referendum risks consolidating authoritarian rule and deepening Guinea’s legitimacy crisis, according to experts cited by the International Crisis Group. The environment is fraught with risks: citizens may be denied access to balanced information, repression could escalate, and the exclusion of key opposition forces threatens the legitimacy of any new constitution. The heavy security presence risks normalizing elections as military operations rather than civic processes. Electoral law restricts observation to polling day, and there are fears that government-aligned “fake observers” could be used to legitimize a flawed process. The Supreme Court, charged with resolving disputes, is seen as lacking independence.
Guinea’s international obligations—under the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Governance, and other treaties—require credible elections and respect for political freedoms. Yet, the 2021 coup and its drawn-out aftermath fly in the face of these commitments. Enforced disappearances and torture raise serious concerns under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.
For Australia and other international stakeholders, Guinea’s referendum is more than a distant political drama. It’s a test of responsible engagement. Past experiences, such as the troubled Panguna mine in Bougainville, have shown how poorly managed resource wealth can fuel conflict and undermine governance. As Guineans head to the polls, the choices made—by local leaders and foreign partners alike—will shape not just the country’s political landscape but its social fabric and economic future. The world, distracted by other crises, may not be watching closely. But for Guinea, the stakes could not be higher.
