On October 25, 2025, the people of Ivory Coast will head to the polls in a presidential election that has already stirred up strong emotions, heated debate, and a sense of both hope and trepidation across the nation. President Alassane Ouattara, now 83 years old and a fixture in Ivorian politics since 2011, is seeking an unprecedented fourth term. The stakes are high, the streets are alive with both celebration and protest, and the country’s future feels poised on a knife’s edge.
In Abidjan, the country’s bustling port capital, the mood is anything but quiet. Slam poet Placide Konan, 33, has taken to the stage in recent weeks, using his art as a megaphone for frustration. “People can no longer make ends meet,” Konan told The Associated Press. “You have to be very lucky, or a bit of a magician, to be able to live comfortably.” Despite Ivory Coast’s status as West Africa’s economic powerhouse and the world’s largest cocoa producer, a stubborn poverty rate of 37.5% and growing inequality have left many—especially the young—feeling left behind. More than three-quarters of the population is under 35, and for them, the promises of prosperity often seem out of reach.
Yet, in the working-class neighborhood of Abobo, a Ouattara stronghold in northern Abidjan, the atmosphere is almost jubilant. Supporters there are convinced of a first-round “knockout blow” for their candidate. “Today’s Abobo is not the Abobo of yesterday,” said Lamine Toure, youth secretary-general of the ruling party, as he pointed out paved roads, new power lines, and the site of a massive new university hospital. “All these construction sites and these power lines make it easier to access the neighbourhood, making it safer and giving young people work.” The transformation is visible, and for many, it’s proof of Ouattara’s impact.
But this optimism is far from universal. The election, analysts say, is the latest in a pattern of African long-term presidents clashing with a predominantly young citizenry. The field of candidates is notably thinner this year. Key opposition figures, including former Credit Suisse CEO Tidjane Thiam, have been disqualified—Thiam for holding French nationality, which Ivorian law prohibits for presidential hopefuls. Thiam, who gave up his French citizenship in March, called the decision foul play but was nonetheless barred from running. Instead, Ouattara faces four challengers: Jean-Louis Billon, a former commerce minister; Simone Gbagbo, the ex-first lady; and two others, all seen as less formidable rivals.
The exclusion of prominent opposition voices has sparked protests in the streets, which authorities have tried to suppress. Hundreds have been arrested, and at least three people have died in election-related unrest. The government, citing security concerns, has restricted public gatherings and deployed more than 40,000 security personnel across the country. According to FRANCE 24, 32 people have even been imprisoned simply for participating in banned demonstrations. Critics allege that the government is exploiting legal provisions to weaken the opposition, pointing to an unfair final list of candidates. President Ouattara, however, denies targeting his rivals.
Ivory Coast’s recent political history is marred by violence. Ouattara himself rose to power after the bloody 2010-2011 crisis, which erupted when then-president Laurent Gbagbo refused to concede defeat. That standoff claimed about 3,000 lives, many of them in neighborhoods like Abobo, where families still remember the losses vividly. “Many Abobo residents lost loved ones in the fighting—including Toure, whose uncle was killed,” reported FRANCE 24. For supporters here, Ouattara is a “man of peace” who helped the commune turn the page on its darkest days.
Still, the shadow of violence lingers. About 8.7 million Ivorians are registered to vote, and the memory of past election-related bloodshed is fresh. In 2020, Ouattara’s disputed third-term victory—made possible, he argued, by a 2016 constitutional change resetting his term count—was followed by unrest that left nearly 100 people dead, according to rights groups. Paul Melly, a consulting fellow at Chatham House, told The Associated Press that the current tensions “undermine stability at a time when (Ivory Coast), like other countries in West Africa, faces big challenges.”
Ouattara’s pitch for another term leans heavily on his record of economic growth and infrastructure development. The World Bank reports that Ivory Coast’s economy grew by 6% in 2024, fueled by foreign investment and rising government earnings. “If you left Côte d’Ivoire to live abroad for a few years and came back today, you would not recognize your neighborhood,” said Assita Karamoko, a hairdresser in Abidjan and a vocal Ouattara supporter. Projects like the expansion of the Abidjan commuter train and the paving of rural roads are touted as evidence of progress. Yet, as Melly points out, “it is still very hard to translate all of these into enough more jobs for young people. In terms of youth employment and business opportunity, there is still a long way to go.”
Security is another pressing concern. Ivory Coast shares a northern border with Mali and Burkina Faso, both of which are grappling with armed insurgencies. The breakdown in regional security cooperation, after both neighbors cut ties with West Africa’s regional bloc, has left Ivory Coast more exposed. Analysts regard the Ivorian military as one of the region’s most sophisticated, but the threat from armed groups remains real. “The security conditions are fragile and exposed in the north of the country,” Melly explained. “That is not the fault of the Ivorian government, (but) that is the reality of the regional situation.”
Inside Abobo, Ouattara’s supporters are unwavering. “It’s Alassane or nothing!” chant market vendors, their stalls draped in orange and their spirits high. The president’s face smiles down from banners on every corner. Yet, even here, not everyone is so sure. “I have my choice, but it’s mine alone,” one resident said, declining to discuss his views further. Another, Karim, admitted, “Personally, politics scares me, and I prefer not to vote. But you have to give it to Alassane Ouattara—he made Abobo residents proud again. Our commune was marginalised and had a bad reputation. People didn’t want to live here. Today, it’s being reborn.”
As Ivory Coast stands on the threshold of another pivotal election, the nation is a study in contrasts: hope and hardship, pride and protest, progress and persistent challenges. The outcome on October 25 will shape not only the country’s political future but also the daily realities of millions who call it home.
