On 26 November 2025, at 10:00 AM UTC, Umaro Sissoco Embaló, the president of Guinea-Bissau, was dragged from his residence in Bissau by armed soldiers as gunfire cracked through the capital. The arrest came just hours before the official announcement of results from the 23 November general election — a vote many feared was already doomed by fraud, exclusion, and fear. By midday, tanks rolled down Avenida Amílcar Cabral, and military units seized the Interior Ministry and the National Electoral Commission. Civilians fled in panic. The country, already fragile, had slipped into another military takeover — its seventh since independence in 1974.
What Led to the Coup?
The 2025 election was never going to be normal. On 10 November, the Supreme Court disqualified Domingos Simões Pereira, the former prime minister and standard-bearer of the African Party for the Independence of Guinea and Cape Verde (PAIGC), over disputed citizenship papers. The PAIGC — the very party that led Guinea-Bissau to independence from Portugal in 1974 — was barred from running its candidate. That left the field wide open for Embaló, who had already spent years weakening democratic institutions. The move sparked outrage from 17 civil society groups, including CONCONE, and international observers. By August, ECOWAS had pulled its 45-member observer mission after being threatened with expulsion. The election was a charade before it began.
Unofficial tallies showed Embaló leading with 52.3% — but his opponent, Fernando Dias of the Resistance of Guinea-Bissau-Bafatá Movement, was close behind at 48.7%, according to PAIGC’s internal polling. Embaló’s camp claimed Dias’s supporters were trying to sabotage the vote. Dias’s allies said the opposite: that Embaló was preparing to fake a coup to cling to power. Both narratives were plausible. Neither side trusted the other. And no one trusted the courts.
The Coup Unfolds
At 10:15 AM on 26 November, soldiers in full combat gear blocked every entrance to the presidential palace. Witnesses described a scene of chaos: automatic weapons fired into the air, windows shattered, armored vehicles parked outside the National Electoral Commission. Around 300 staff and civilians were trapped inside the Plateau district buildings for over an hour. By 11:30 AM, the streets were under military control.
The architect of the operation? Brigadier General Dinis Incanha, Embaló’s own appointee as Head of the Military Office of the Presidency since March 2023. It was a betrayal from within. Incanha, once loyal, now led the Presidential Guard Battalion and the Rapid Reaction Unit — the very forces meant to protect the president. Within hours, he announced the formation of the High Military Command for the Restoration of National Security and Public Order, declaring total control.
Who Took Power?
By the next morning, the military had a new face: General Horta Inta-A Na Man, army chief of staff since January 2024. At 9:00 AM on 27 November, he appeared on state television, flanked by officers in fatigues, and announced a one-year transition period — ending precisely on 27 November 2026. No elections. No parliament. No parties. Decree-Law No. 1/2025, issued at 10:30 AM that day, dissolved the National People's Assembly and suspended all political activity. The constitution? Put on ice.
"This is not a coup," Horta insisted. "It is a necessary intervention to prevent civil war." But the world saw differently. The United Nations, the African Union, and the European Union issued statements condemning the move as "a direct assault on democracy." Portugal, Guinea-Bissau’s former colonial ruler, recalled its ambassador.
Opposition Fires Back
Domingos Simões Pereira, who was meeting with election observers at the Hotel Eden when the shooting started, held a press conference at 1:45 PM on 26 November. "This isn’t an opposition coup," he said, voice shaking but clear. "This is a staged performance by a president who knew he lost. He wanted to blame us so he could declare an emergency and stay in power. We didn’t need tanks to win — we had the people. Now he’s taken them away."
His words echoed through Bissau’s neighborhoods. Young men in the Cuntum district burned tires. Women gathered outside the military camp, holding photos of their sons who joined the army — now turned against their own country. "We voted," one grandmother told a reporter. "They stole our voices. Now they’re stealing our future."
Why This Matters Beyond Guinea-Bissau
Guinea-Bissau has long been a cautionary tale. A country rich in cashew nuts and potential, but plagued by coups, drug trafficking, and weak institutions. Every military takeover since 2003 has been followed by international pressure, sanctions, and promises of democracy. None have lasted. ECOWAS, once a strong voice for regional stability, has grown increasingly fractured — its credibility damaged by its own silence in the face of repeated abuses.
This coup isn’t just about one man losing an election. It’s about what happens when institutions are hollowed out, when courts become tools of the powerful, and when the military sees itself as the ultimate arbiter of legitimacy. If the world does nothing, it sends a message: that coups still work. That elections can be erased. That democracy is optional.
What’s Next?
The clock is ticking. The High Military Command has promised elections in exactly one year — but no one believes them. No independent media. No opposition parties. No credible electoral body. The international community is calling for dialogue, but who will sit at the table? Embaló is in detention. Pereira is under virtual house arrest. Dias is in hiding. The generals have all the guns.
One thing is clear: the 2026 election, if it happens, will be neither free nor fair. And by then, Guinea-Bissau may have lost not just its democracy — but its last chance to rebuild it peacefully.
Frequently Asked Questions
Who is General Horta Inta-A Na Man, and why was he chosen to lead the military government?
General Horta Inta-A Na Man has served as Guinea-Bissau’s army chief of staff since January 2024, after rising through the ranks with minimal public profile. He was chosen because he’s seen as loyal to the military establishment, not tied to any political faction. Unlike previous coup leaders, he has no history of running for office — making him a "neutral" figurehead in the military’s eyes. But his lack of political experience raises concerns about long-term governance.
Why was the PAIGC barred from the presidential election?
The PAIGC’s candidate, Domingos Simões Pereira, was disqualified on 10 November 2025 over disputed citizenship documentation — a claim widely seen as politically motivated. The Supreme Court’s ruling came after months of pressure from Embaló’s allies. The PAIGC, founded in 1956, had dominated politics for decades. Its exclusion effectively removed the only party with national reach and grassroots support, making the election a contest between minor factions and the incumbent.
What role did ECOWAS play before the coup?
ECOWAS withdrew its 45-member election observer mission on 12 August 2025 after the Guinean government threatened to expel them. The bloc had previously mediated past crises, but its influence had weakened due to internal divisions and inconsistent enforcement. Their withdrawal was a death knell for the election’s legitimacy. Without monitors, fraud flourished — and the military used that chaos to justify their takeover.
How has the public reacted inside Guinea-Bissau?
Public reaction has been mixed but increasingly defiant. While some fear retaliation, others have taken to social media with #NaoAoGolpe (#NoToTheCoup). In Bissau’s neighborhoods, spontaneous gatherings have formed to share food and information. Teachers, doctors, and students are organizing silent protests. The military has not yet cracked down violently — but they’ve arrested several journalists and blocked internet access. The silence is louder than the gunfire.
Can the international community do anything?
Yes — but only if they act decisively. Sanctions on military leaders, freezing assets, and cutting off military aid could pressure the junta. The African Union has suspended Guinea-Bissau’s membership. The U.S. and EU have issued condemnations but no concrete penalties. Without unified, targeted action, the generals will see the world’s outrage as empty words — and continue ruling without accountability.
Is there any hope for a return to democracy?
It’s not impossible, but it’s fading fast. The one-year transition window is a trap — it gives the military time to entrench power, co-opt loyalists, and rewrite the rules. Real hope lies in sustained pressure from civil society, regional allies like Senegal and Cape Verde, and the diaspora. But without international leverage, the generals will simply delay, distract, and delay again — until the world moves on.
