General sworn in as Guinea-Bissau leader in swift coup after disputed vote.
The military has taken control of Guinea-Bissau. On November 27, 2025, General Horta N'Tam was sworn in as the country's new leader, just hours after armed forces declared they had seized complete power from President Umaro Sissoco Embalo. What happened over these 24 hours shocked the nation and exposed how fragile democracy remains in West Africa's poorest countries.
This marks the fourth successful coup in Guinea-Bissau since independence in 1974. The pattern has become almost predictable: election turmoil, military intervention, constitutional crisis. Yet each time, the consequences for ordinary citizens grow worse. The international community watches helplessly as another African nation slips back into military rule.
How It Happened: A Day That Changed Everything
Wednesday morning started like any other day in Bissau, the capital city. But by afternoon, gunfire echoed across the city. Military forces surrounded key government buildings—the presidential palace, the National Electoral Commission headquarters, the Ministry of Interior. Something was happening. Something big.
By evening, armed soldiers appeared on state television. General Denis N'Canha, head of the presidential military office, announced that the military command had taken over. His words were direct and chilling: complete control of the nation had passed to the armed forces. He spoke of a conspiracy involving drug lords and politicians plotting to destabilize the country through illegal weapons imports.
The military shut down everything. Media went dark. Airports closed. Borders sealed. Citizens received orders to stay home. Curfew was imposed nationwide. Within hours, the machinery of government ground to a halt.
President Embalo, the man who had ruled Guinea-Bissau for five years, suddenly disappeared from public view. He later told French journalists: "I have been deposed." Military sources claimed he was being held at headquarters, treated well, but his exact location remained unknown. The chief of staff and interior minister were arrested alongside him.
By morning, it was over. The coup had succeeded in less than a day.
The Election That Never Was
The chaos didn't start on Wednesday. It began days earlier, rooted in an election that nobody trusted.
On Sunday, November 24, Guinea-Bissau held presidential elections. The country had wanted this vote for months. President Embalo had dissolved parliament in 2023 and ruled by decree for nearly two years, bypassing democratic institutions entirely. The election was supposed to restore legitimacy to his government.
But the election was broken from the start.
The Supreme Court had barred the main opposition party, the PAIGC, from participating. The PAIGC, the historic party that had fought for independence from Portugal decades ago, claimed the court's decision was pure manipulation. Their candidate, Domingos Simoes Pereira, couldn't run. Their parliamentary candidates couldn't compete. Democracy was supposed to include all voices, yet opposition parties were locked out.
There was another problem. Constitutional lawyers questioned whether Embalo should even be president anymore. His term, they argued, should have ended in February 2025—exactly five years after he took office in 2020. But courts friendly to the government extended his mandate, first to September, then to November. The legal maneuvering looked desperate.
On election day, both leading candidates—incumbent President Embalo and challenger Fernando Dias—immediately claimed victory. Neither would accept defeat. This wasn't new to Guinea-Bissau. In 2019, the country faced the exact same situation: a disputed election, multiple candidates claiming victory, months of crisis that paralyzed the nation.
The official results weren't supposed to be announced until Thursday, November 27. That's when the military struck.
Why Guinea-Bissau Keeps Falling Apart
Guinea-Bissau shouldn't be this unstable. It's a small nation of about two million people. It shouldn't be impossible to hold a credible election or maintain civilian government.
Yet four successful coups since 1974 tell a different story. The reasons are complex and overlapping.
The country is desperately poor. Nearly half the population lives on less than two dollars a day. Schools lack teachers. Hospitals lack medicine. The government lacks the capacity to provide basic services. When a nation can't feed or educate its people, maintaining democratic institutions becomes almost secondary to mere survival.
Then there's geography. Guinea-Bissau sits on the cocaine trafficking route between Latin America and Europe. Massive amounts of drugs flow through the country, enriching criminals and corrupting officials. When a government is weak and poverty is widespread, the drug trade becomes irresistible. It brings money when the state brings nothing. Some military officers have reportedly become rich through drug connections, giving them financial incentive to seize power when their interests are threatened.
The military itself has become a parallel power structure. Officers hold loyalty to their units and comrades more than to the state or constitution. When a coup happens, enlisted men and junior officers follow orders from their commanders without question. Democracy requires an officer corps that respects civilian authority. Guinea-Bissau's military has never developed that discipline.
Foreign interference has also played a role. Various international powers have backed different factions throughout Guinea-Bissau's history. This outside involvement has often strengthened whoever could deliver results quickly—usually military leaders—rather than democratic institutions requiring consensus-building and compromise.
What The Opposition Saw
Fernando Dias' supporters have a different interpretation of events. They believe President Embalo orchestrated the coup himself, fabricating a conspiracy to justify canceling an election he was about to lose. The timing certainly raises questions. Why did the military move now, just before results would be announced?
"If the election was going well for Embalo, why stage a coup?" opposition leaders asked. "If he was winning, just wait for official results. Instead, he removed all doubt by removing democracy itself."
The opposition coalition demanded that the military allow elections to proceed. They insisted that N'Tam respect the constitution and organize new elections quickly. They rejected military rule entirely. But their demands have no power now. The guns belong to the military.
The International Response: Words Without Force
ECOWAS—the West African economic bloc—condemned the coup. The African Union demanded Embalo's release. Election observers from various countries issued statements expressing deep concern. Former presidents like Nigeria's Goodluck Jonathan, who had been monitoring the election, spoke out against the takeover.
But what could they actually do? Deploy troops to reverse the coup? Impose sanctions that would hurt ordinary citizens more than military leaders? International pressure rarely stops determined military forces from consolidating power in Africa.
A few thousand security personnel from ECOWAS had been stationed in Guinea-Bissau to support the election. They proved completely unable to prevent the coup. The military simply overwhelmed them through speed and complete control of the capital.
What Happens Now?
General N'Tam has announced plans for a one-year transition period. During this time, he says, the military will prepare the country for new elections and return to civilian rule. History suggests this timeline is optimistic at best and a lie at worst. Military leaders often promise quick transitions and extend them indefinitely.
The general was closely connected to the ousted president, raising questions about whether this represents real change or merely rearrangement among military elites. Perhaps Embalo and N'Tam had disagreed about something—power-sharing, drug trafficking routes, military budgets. Perhaps the coup was internal military politics dressed up as constitutional restoration.
The immediate future looks grim. Detained officials may face show trials or simply disappear. Opposition figures will likely face pressure and possible arrest. The transitional government will probably claim it needs more time to stabilize things before holding elections.
Guinea-Bissau's ordinary people—fishermen, farmers, market vendors, students—will continue struggling to survive. The military takeover won't improve their lives. If anything, military governments in West Africa have historically been more corrupt and less interested in public welfare than even weak civilian governments.
The Broader Pattern
What happened in Guinea-Bissau matters beyond the country's borders. West Africa has experienced multiple coups in recent years. Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger—military officers have seized power across the region. Each time, the international community protests but does little to reverse course.
Guinea-Bissau represents the extreme case of this trend. A nation so poor, so afflicted by drug trafficking, so destabilized by weak institutions that military intervention becomes almost inevitable when tensions rise. Democratic reforms require time, investment, and institutional development. Coups are quick.
The soldiers in Bissau took hours to accomplish what democratic processes might take years. Whether that's ultimately better or worse for Guinea-Bissau remains to be seen. History suggests that military rule in West Africa rarely produces positive outcomes. But at this moment, on November 27, 2025, the outcome doesn't depend on historical patterns or international opinion. It depends only on the will of officers who now hold all the guns.
General N'Tam stands as the country's new leader, sworn in by fellow military commanders in a ceremony stripped of civilian dignity. The election that was never completed will never be held. The president who was deposed will likely never return to power. And the cycle continues—another chapter in Guinea-Bissau's endless story of coups, crises, and democratic failure.
The people of Guinea-Bissau can only wait and hope that this time, somehow, things might be different. But hope has become a scarce commodity in this troubled West African nation.