This is the first part of a presidential election series titled “The Marble and the Paradox of Gambian Democracy”.
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The Gambia prepares for another presidential election on 5 December 2026. Every five years, before the election results are announced, before victory speeches are delivered and before political celebrations begin, there is a sound that only Gambians truly understand. The country pauses to listen to one of the most distinctive sounds in democracy: the sharp clink of a glass marble dropping into a painted iron drum. It is a sound unlike any other in the world.
For more than six decades, that simple marble has carried the weight of our democracy. Introduced at independence in 1965, it gave every Gambian, regardless of literacy, wealth or social status, an equal opportunity to choose who governs the nation. In many ways, it was one of Africa’s most innovative democratic ideas. While other countries struggled with complicated ballot papers and high illiteracy rates, The Gambia found a voting system that placed every citizen on equal footing. That little marble became more than a voting tool, it became a symbol of equality. A symbol of trust. A symbol that every Gambian voice matters.
However, has our democracy become so focused on changing leaders that we have forgotten to change the institutions that actually determine whether people live better lives? Every election follows a familiar rhythm. Political parties tour the country promising jobs, affordable food, reliable electricity, better healthcare and opportunities for young people. Campaign stages are erected in towns and villages. Supporters wave party colours with pride. Radio stations are dominated by political debates. Families argue over which candidate deserves another chance and which one deserves to be removed.
Then comes election day. Millions of marbles fall into iron drums. The votes are counted. One candidate wins. Another loses. Hope returns. But within months, ordinary conversations begin to sound strangely familiar. The market woman in Serrekunda still wonders why the price of basic food keeps rising faster than her income. The taxi driver in Bundung calculates whether another increase in fuel prices will wipe out his daily earnings. The fisherman in Tanji worries whether unreliable electricity will spoil the day’s catch before it reaches the market. A university graduate submits dozens of job applications without receiving a single interview. Parents continue asking whether their children should remain home and struggle, or join thousands of other young Gambians risking the dangerous Backway in search of opportunities abroad.
Different governments. The same conversations. That should concern all of us. Because if elections repeatedly produce different leaders but the same frustrations, perhaps we have misunderstood the problem. Perhaps our greatest challenge is not simply who governs, but how the country is governed. Too often, our politics resembles replacing the captain of a ferry while ignoring the condition of its engine.
Imagine boarding the ferry across the River Gambia. Halfway through the journey, the engine fails. Passengers become frustrated. Some blame the captain. Others demand that he be removed immediately. Eventually, a new captain takes over. The passengers applaud. But the engine remains broken. The ferry still cannot move. Changing the captain without repairing the engine merely changes who receives the blame when the ferry remains stranded.
Our politics sometimes follows the same pattern. Every election becomes a contest over personalities. Far fewer conversations focus on whether the institutions beneath those personalities are capable of delivering results. Whoever occupies the State House inherits the same civil service. The same public enterprises. The same bureaucratic procedures. The same institutional strengths. The same institutional weaknesses. If those institutions remain weak, even capable leaders will struggle to produce different outcomes. This is the paradox of Gambian democracy.
We have built one of Africa’s most unique and inclusive voting systems. Yet we have spent far less time asking whether the machinery of government is evolving as quickly as our democratic expectations. Take a moment to consider how citizens actually judge the government. Most Gambians do not measure governance by the number of cabinet meetings held each week. They measure it much more simply. Does the electricity stay on long enough for a tailor to finish sewing school uniforms? Can a small business owner operate without spending half their profits on fuel for generators? Can a young graduate find work without relying on political connections? Can parents afford basic food without sacrificing school fees? Can patients visit public hospitals knowing essential medicines will be available? These are not ideological questions. They are practical questions. And practical questions require practical institutions. When electricity fails repeatedly, businesses lose money. Students preparing for examinations revise under rechargeable lamps or candles. Health facilities activate emergency generators. Small enterprises close earlier than planned. Economic activity slows not because Gambians lack ambition, but because institutions responsible for delivering essential public services struggle to meet growing national demands.
Likewise, every young Gambian who decides to embark on the backway is making more than a migration decision. It is also an expression of diminishing confidence. Confidence that hard work alone will create opportunity. Confidence that talent will be rewarded fairly. Confidence that tomorrow will offer more than today. That should concern every political party equally. Because when thousands of young citizens begin believing that opportunity lies everywhere except at home, the issue is larger than unemployment. It is about trust. Trust in institutions. Trust in governance. Trust that the state is capable of creating conditions where aspiration can flourish. This is why recent public opinion surveys deserve careful attention.
The surveys reveal that while Gambians remain firmly committed to democracy, many are increasingly dissatisfied with the performance of public institutions and deeply concerned about corruption.
Those findings should not simply become campaign ammunition for one political party against another. They should become a national wake-up call. Because public trust is one of the most valuable resources any country possesses. Once citizens lose confidence that institutions work fairly and effectively, rebuilding that confidence becomes far harder than winning an election. Perhaps this explains why every election feels increasingly consequential. Citizens begin searching for a political saviour. Someone who will finally solve everything. Someone whose honesty, charisma or determination will succeed where others have failed. History tells us to be careful with that expectation. No country has ever become prosperous simply because it elected one extraordinary individual. Countries become prosperous because they build extraordinary institutions. Leaders matter. But institutions determine whether good leadership produces lasting results.
The marble remains one of the greatest symbols of Gambian democracy. It gives every citizen an equal voice. But democracy cannot end when the marble hits the iron drum. In many respects, that is where democracy truly begins. Because once the celebrations end, once the campaign posters come down and once a new government settles into office, the real question remains exactly the same. Will we simply have a different leader? Or will we finally begin building a different kind of state? That, more than the outcome of any single election, may determine The Gambia’s future.
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Zindi Anthony Levi is a passionate foreign policy specialist based in the United Kingdom. With an MA in International Relations, he dedicates his expertise to shaping development policies across Africa and Europe.
