The Civic Scribe: Articles & Poems

The sudden withdrawal of Talib Bensouda from the United Democratic Party’s (UDP) flagbearer race—and his resignation as the party’s National Organizing Secretary—has sent shockwaves through Gambian politics. This isn’t just another internal party dispute; it is a symptom of deeper structural challenges within the UDP and, by extension, The Gambia’s fragile democracy. As the country gears up for the 2026 presidential election, Bensouda’s exit raises critical questions about the UDP’s ability to present a united front against incumbent President Adama Barrow and what this means for democratic consolidation in the nation.

Bensouda, the young and dynamic Mayor of Kanifing, was seen by many as a rising star within the UDP. His departure underscores a generational and ideological rift within the party. While the UDP has long positioned itself as the standard-bearer of democracy and change—especially during the dark years of Yahya Jammeh’s dictatorship—it now risks becoming a victim of its own internal contradictions. The party’s failure to manage ambitious newcomers like Bensouda and its reliance on older guard figures like Ousainou Darboe reveal a struggle to balance tradition with renewal.

This incident also highlights the UDP’s flawed candidate selection process. Rather than allowing party members to directly elect their flagbearer through primaries, the central and selection committees have taken it upon themselves to choose the candidate. This top-down approach is not only exclusionary but also inherently undemocratic. It stifles competition, discourages transparency, and fuels resentment among aspirants and grassroots supporters alike. In a country where democratic norms are still evolving, the UDP’s inability to embrace internal democracy sets a dangerous precedent.

The implications for the 2026 election are profound. President Barrow, who leads the National People’s Party (NPP), now faces a weakened opposition. The UDP, once the dominant force in Gambian politics, is increasingly fragmented. Without a unifying candidate who can galvanize both traditionalists and progressives, the party may struggle to mount an effective challenge against Barrow’s incumbency advantage. Moreover, Bensouda’s exit could disillusion younger voters who saw in him a symbol of change and accountability. This disillusionment might depress voter turnout or drive support toward smaller parties, further splitting the opposition vote.

Beyond the electoral calculus, Bensouda’s withdrawal reflects broader issues in Gambian democracy. The fear among some UDP supporters that Bensouda might “betray the party” if elected president speaks to a culture of distrust and gatekeeping. Similarly, the alleged efforts by Barrow’s allies to disqualify Bensouda from public office through the Local Government Commission suggest a troubling use of state institutions for political ends. These dynamics erode public trust in democratic processes and reinforce the perception that politics is a game for elites, not citizens.

The Gambia stands at a crossroads. The UDP must decide whether it will cling to outdated modes of operation or embrace a more inclusive and democratic future. Holding primaries, encouraging open debates, and empowering grassroots members would be a start. Otherwise, the party risks irrelevance—and Gambians risk losing a viable alternative to Barrow’s government.

In the end, the health of a democracy is measured not only by the strength of its institutions but also by the vitality of its political parties. The UDP’s current crisis is a test of whether The Gambia can move beyond the politics of personality and patronage toward a system defined by principles, participation, and accountability. The world will be watching.