On Sunday, September 21, 2025, the West African nation of Guinea found itself at a crossroads, as millions of citizens streamed to polling stations for a high-stakes referendum that could reshape the country’s political future. The referendum, closely watched both at home and abroad, centers on a new draft constitution—one that critics argue could pave the way for the current junta leader, General Mamadi Doumbouya, to seek the presidency in December’s upcoming election.
The scene in Conakry, Guinea’s bustling capital, was electric. From the early hours after polls opened at 7 a.m., voters lined up at stations, many donning T-shirts and traditional boubous emblazoned with Doumbouya’s face. The referendum’s campaign—at least what was visible—had been omnipresent. Billboards plastered across public and private buildings called for a resounding “Yes” vote, with reggae concerts and Quran readings held in Doumbouya’s honor. Yet, as AP reported, one notable absence lingered: the opposition.
Just days before the vote, authorities had banned all campaigning, and weeks earlier, the military regime suspended the three main opposition parties. The move, as detailed by Al Jazeera, rendered it virtually impossible for dissenting voices to organize rallies or reach the population. In fact, the government had dissolved more than 50 political parties the previous year, claiming it was necessary to “clean up the political chessboard.” For many Guineans—over half of whom are illiterate—this meant that information about the new constitution came almost exclusively from the “yes” campaign.
“Our activists and supporters have no knowledge of this constitution. The moment we were excluded, they were excluded,” Rafiou Sow, president of the suspended Renewal and Progress Party, told AP. “We, who were supposed to help Guineans understand what is written in it, we are forbidden even to speak.” Sow and other opposition leaders, including Cellou Dalein Diallo and deposed former President Alpha Conde, called for a boycott, arguing the process was neither free nor fair.
Despite these restrictions, the government deployed more than 40,000 security personnel nationwide to ensure order at the polls, according to a government statement cited by Al Jazeera. The vote required a turnout of at least 50% among the country’s 6.7 million eligible voters to pass, and early reports suggested a robust turnout—though the absence of opposition observers raised questions about transparency.
The stakes could hardly be higher. Since seizing power in a 2021 coup that ousted President Alpha Conde, General Doumbouya has led a military junta, promising to steer Guinea back to civilian rule. That promise, however, has been repeatedly delayed. The military-led government missed a December 2024 deadline to hand power back to civilians, and the current referendum marks the latest chapter in a turbulent transition period. Elections are now expected in December 2025, but the path there is fraught with controversy.
At the heart of the debate is the content of the new constitution itself. If adopted, it would extend the presidential term from five to seven years, renewable twice, and create a Senate—one third of whose members would be appointed directly by the president. Notably, the draft constitution does not bar junta members from running for office, despite earlier transitional charters that had promised to exclude them. Critics, like those quoted by Al Jazeera, argue that this is a calculated move to legitimize Doumbouya’s rule and entrench military influence in civilian politics.
“People are expecting that the referendum will result in the approval of the draft constitution that some people call impressive and progressive,” reported Ahmed Idris from Conakry for Al Jazeera. “However, people who are opposed to this referendum are saying it will legitimise the current military rulership to participate in the election.”
Still, the referendum has its supporters. Many ordinary Guineans, frustrated by decades of political instability and economic hardship, see Doumbouya as a figure of hope. “In my neighborhood, we didn’t have roads. Now, he took care of that, we have roads. He has made a lot of progress for Guinea and I hope he will continue on this path,” said Tiguidanké Guirassy, a 20-year-old university graduate, in remarks to AP.
Fanta Conte, a member of Guinea’s National Transition Council, insisted that the referendum was “not about Doumbouya, but about the new constitution, which would give more power to the legislative branch of government.” Supporters point to provisions allowing independent candidates to stand in elections and the creation of new legislative checks. Yet, as Kabinet Fofana, head of the Conakry-based Guinean Association of Political Sciences, told AP, “We’ve always had constitutions that enshrined balance of powers and democratic and even modern institutions. But the problem is not the constitution—it is rather respect (for it), its applicability, and rule of law.”
Not everyone is convinced by the promises of reform. Human rights groups, including Human Rights Watch and Reporters Without Borders, have accused the military regime of disappearing political opponents and cracking down on independent media. Journalists have faced attacks and arrests, with information sites and radio stations suspended. The government denies these allegations, but the climate of fear and censorship has left many Guineans wary.
Meanwhile, the broader context is sobering. Guinea, with a population of roughly 15 million, is rich in natural resources but plagued by poverty and food insecurity. According to the World Food Program, more than half of Guineans are experiencing “unprecedented levels of poverty and food insecurity.” The country’s struggles mirror those of its neighbors—Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso—where military coups and delayed transitions have become all too common in recent years.
The results of Sunday’s referendum are expected within the next two to three days. If the new constitution passes, it will mark a turning point in Guinea’s fraught journey from military rule to civilian government. Whether it delivers on its promises of democracy and development, or simply entrenches the power of the current regime, remains to be seen. As Ben Daouda Sylla, a 30-year-old lawyer, put it to AP: “We have seen many regimes here, but since the arrival of (Doumbouya) there has been change. He is doing everything possible to ensure that Guinea moves forward.”
As the country awaits the outcome, the world is watching. Guinea’s experiment with constitutional reform could set a precedent for the region—or serve as a cautionary tale about the perils of power without accountability.