In the shifting sands of North African politics, Tunisia was once hailed as the solitary success story of the Arab Spring. It was the exception that proved the rule, a nation that successfully navigated the treacherous transition from autocracy to a fragile but functioning pluralism. Yet, as the sun sets on that democratic experiment, a new and more ominous shadow is lengthening over the Mediterranean. The current political climate suggests that the “Tunisian Exception” has not just stalled but is being systematically dismantled to make way for a regime that bears all the hallmarks of a permanent presidency.
The current political climate suggests that the “Tunisian Exception” has not just stalled but is being systematically dismantled to make way for a regime that bears all the hallmarks of a permanent presidency.
The alarm was recently sounded by the Democratic Current, one of the few remaining secular opposition groups capable of public dissent. Their warning was stark: there are clear intentions within the palace to engineer a third term for President Kais Saied. While Saied’s current mandate still has years to run, the architecture for its extension is already being built. This is not merely a matter of political speculation; it is an analysis of a deliberate institutional hollow-out designed to ensure that the sitting president becomes the only viable option for the nation’s future.
The primary tool in this engineering project is the strategic vacuum at the heart of the Tunisian state. Despite the promises made during the drafting of the recent constitution, the country remains without a functioning Constitutional Court. In any republic, this court serves as the final arbiter of law and the only body with the authority to check executive overreach. By keeping this institution in a state of permanent limbo, the presidency has ensured that there is no legal authority capable of interpreting term limits or challenging the legality of future electoral decrees. When the guardian of the constitution is absent, the president becomes the constitution himself.
Furthermore, the document that replaced the democratic charter provides a convenient loophole through the imminent danger clause. This provision allows the president to take exceptional measures in the face of threats to the state’s independence or security. In a climate where every economic failure is framed as a foreign plot and every internal criticism is labeled as a conspiracy against state security, the definition of imminent danger has become dangerously elastic. It provides a ready-made justification for suspending term limits or delaying transitions under the banner of national preservation.
The recent judicial crackdown has served to clear the field of any potential challengers. High-profile opposition figures and veteran politicians have seen their prison sentences not only upheld but significantly increased in recent appeal trials. By decapitating the leadership of every major political movement—from the Islamists to the liberals—the state has created a political desert. When the leading voices of the opposition are facing decades behind bars on charges that international human rights observers have called politically motivated, the concept of a competitive election becomes a farce. The message to the Tunisian public is clear: there is no alternative, and any attempt to build one is a criminal act.
An architecture of power that relies entirely on the survival of a single individual is inherently prone to sudden and violent collapse.
This drive for permanency is increasingly fueled by a rhetoric of constant crisis. Rather than addressing the systemic economic challenges that have left many Tunisians struggling with inflation and shortages, the state narrative has shifted toward a search for scapegoats. Recent natural disasters and ongoing infrastructure failures are no longer treated as administrative challenges but as evidence of a vast, entrenched web of corruption that only the president can dismantle. By maintaining a permanent state of mobilization against these invisible enemies, the presidency creates a psychological environment where a change in leadership is equated with a surrender to chaos.
For the international community, and specifically for those invested in the stability of the Middle East and North Africa, the implications of a Saied third term are profound. A Tunisia that drifts into a permanent autocracy is not a more stable partner; it is a more brittle one. An architecture of power that relies entirely on the survival of a single individual is inherently prone to sudden and violent collapse. Moreover, the erosion of the rule of law and the silencing of intermediate bodies like unions and parties removes the pressure valves that usually prevent social explosions.
The trajectory is unmistakable. The transition from a corrective pause in democracy to a life-long presidency is being managed through a combination of institutional neglect and judicial intimidation. The appeals for a third term are starting to emerge from the digital peripheries and into the mainstream discourse, serving as a trial balloon for the formalization of one-man rule. Unless there is a significant shift in the domestic political will or a more coherent pressure from international stakeholders, the twilight of Tunisia’s democracy will lead to a very long and very dark night of authoritarianism. The exception has finally met the rule, and the result is a return to the very past that the people of Tunisia once risked everything to escape.
