Why Burkina Faso’s junta leader has captured hearts and minds around the world

11 May 2025 Share Save Farouk Chothia BBC News Share Save

Ibrahim Traoré/X

A charismatic 37-year-old, Burkina Faso’s military ruler Capt Ibrahim Traoré has skilfully built the persona of a pan-Africanist leader determined to free his nation from what he regards as the clutches of Western imperialism and neo-colonialism. His message has resonated across Africa and beyond, with his admirers seeing him as following in the footsteps of African heroes like Burkina Faso’s very own Thomas Sankara – a Marxist revolutionary who is sometimes referred to as “Africa’s Che Guevara”. “Traoré’s impact is huge. I have even heard politicians and authors in countries like Kenya [in East Africa] say: ‘This is it. He is the man’,” Beverly Ochieng, a senior researcher at global consultancy firm Control Risks, told the BBC. “His messages reflect the age we are living in, when many Africans are questioning the relationship with the West, and why there is still so much poverty in such a resource-rich continent,” she said. After seizing power in a coup in 2022, Traoré’s regime ditched former colonial power France in favour of a strong alliance with Russia, that has included the deployment of a Russian paramilitary brigade, and adopted left-wing economic policies. This included setting up a state-owned mining company, requiring foreign firms to give it a 15% stake in their local operations and to transfer skills to Burkinabé people. The rule also applied to Russian miner Nordgold, which was given a licence in late April for its latest investment in Burkina Faso’s gold industry. As part of what Traoré calls a “revolution” to ensure Burkina Faso benefits from its mineral wealth, the junta is also building a gold refinery and establishing national gold reserves for the first time in the nation’s history. However, Western-owned firms appear to be facing a tough time, with Australia-headquartered Sarama Resources launching arbitration proceedings against Burkina Faso in late 2024 following the withdrawal of an exploration licence. The junta has also nationalised two gold mines previously owned by a London-listed firm, and said last month that it planned to take control of more foreign-owned mines. Enoch Randy Aikins, a researcher at South Africa’s Institute for Security Studies, told the BBC that Traoré’s radical reforms had increased his popularity in Africa. “He is now arguably Africa’s most popular, if not favourite, president,” Mr Aikins said.

AFP Support for Western-style democracy has fallen in many African states, research shows

His popularity has been fuelled through social media, including many misleading posts intended to bolster his revolutionary image. AI-generated videos of music stars like R Kelly, Rihanna, Justin Bieber and Beyoncé are seen immortalising him through song – though they have done nothing of the sort. Ms Ochieng said that Traoré first caught the attention of Africans when he spoke at the Russia-Africa summit in 2023, telling African leaders to “stop behaving like puppets who dance every time the imperialists pull the strings”. This speech was heavily publicised by Russian media, which has become a major player in promoting Traoré’s pan-Africanist image. Traoré attended commemorations in Russia last week to mark the 80th anniversary of the Soviet victory over Nazi Germany in World War Two. He posted on X that he, along with military leaders from neighbouring Mali and Niger, were inspired by it “to winning the war against terrorism and imperialism at all costs”. Thanks to his rhetoric and pushed by a slick social media campaign, his appeal has spread around the world, including among African-Americans and Black Britons, Ms Ochieng noted. “Everyone who has experienced racism, colonialism and slavery can relate to his messages,” Ms Ochieng said, pointing out that African-American rapper Meek Mill had posted about him on X late last year, saying how much he liked his “energy and heart” – though he was ridiculed for mixing up names by referring to Traoré as Burkina Faso and later deleted the post. But France’s president is not a fan, describing Traoré as part of a “baroque alliance between self-proclaimed pan-Africans and neo-imperialists”. Emmanuel Macron was also referring to Russia and China whom he accused, in a 2023 speech, of provoking coups in Africa’s former French colonies, and hypocritically stirring up old arguments over sovereignty and colonial exploitation. Traoré’s popularity comes despite the fact that he has failed to fulfil his pledge to quell a 10-year Islamist insurgency that has fuelled ethnic divisions and has now spread to once-peaceful neighbours like Benin. His junta has also cracked down on dissent, including the opposition, media and civil society groups and punished critics, among them medics and magistrates, by sending them to the front-lines of the war against the jihadists.

AFP Thomas Sankara, who was killed in 1987, was praised by supporters for his integrity and selflessness – and remains an icon for many in Africa

For Rinaldo Depagne, the Africa deputy director of the International Crisis Group think-tank, Traoré commands such support because “he is young in a country with a young population” – the median age is 17.7 years. “He is media-savvy, and uses the past to build his popularity as a reincarnation of Sankara,” he told the BBC. “And he knows the art of politics – how to make a nation completely traumatised by war feel there is a better future. He is really good at that game.” Sankara rose to power in a coup in 1983 at the age of 33, rallied the nation under the motto “Fatherland or death, we will win!”, and was killed four years later in another coup that put Burkina Faso back in France’s political orbit until Traoré’s seizure of power. Ghanaian security analyst Prof Kwesi Aning, who previously worked at the Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre, said the popularity of the military leader reflected a political shift taking place on the continent, especially in West Africa. A 2024 survey in 39 countries by Afrobarometer showed a drop in support for democracy, although it remained the most popular form of government. “Democracy has failed to give hope to the youth. It has not delivered jobs or better education and health,” Prof Aning told the BBC. He said Traoré was “offering an alternative, and re-capturing the spirit of two historic epochs”: The post-independence era, when there were leaders like Ghana’s Kwame Nkrumah and Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia

Kenneth Kaunda of Zambia And a later era with Sankara and Ghana’s Jerry Rawlings, whose coup in 1979 “was also very popular at the time”.

Ibrahim Traoré/X Capt Traoré is at ease chatting to people – here with agricultural workers in March

It was Traoré who stole the show at the inauguration of Ghana’s President John Mahama in January, when he arrived wearing battle fatigues with a pistol in his holster. “There were already 21 heads of state there, but when Traoré walked in, the place lit up. Even my president’s bodyguards were running after him,” Prof Aning said. Traoré offered a sharply contrasting image to some of the continent’s other leaders, who struggled to walk but clung to power by rigging elections, he said. “Traoré is stylish and confident, with a very open face and a small smile. He is also a powerful orator, and presents himself as a man of the people.” In a sign that his Russian-allied junta has made some progress on the economic front, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank have given a generally upbeat assessment. In a statement in early April, the IMF said that despite a “challenging humanitarian and security” environment, the economy was expected to remain “robust” in 2025, and the regime had made “commendable progress” in raising domestic revenue, containing the public wage bill, and increasing spending on education, health and social protection. As for the World Bank, it said that inflation had surged from 0.7% in 2023 to 4.2% in 2024, but the extreme poverty rate, which refers to people living on less than $2.15 [£1.61] a day, had fallen by almost two percentage points to 24.9% because of “robust growth” in the agriculture and services sectors. Despite these reports from US-based financial institutions, relations with both France and America have been frosty. A recent example being the claim by the head of the US Africa Command, Gen Michael Langley, that Traoré was using Burkina Faso’s gold reserves for his junta’s protection rather than the nation’s benefit. This appeared to be a reference to the long-standing view of the US, and some of its African allies, that Russian forces were propping up Traoré in exchange for a stake in Burkina Faso’s gold industry – undermining the military ruler’s image as a leader who expelled French troops in 2023 to reclaim the country’s sovereignty. Gen Langley’s comments, made in early April during a US Senate committee hearing, triggered an uproar among the captain’s supporters, who felt their hero was being smeared. This was further inflamed when shortly afterwards, the Burkinabé junta said it had foiled a coup plot, alleging the plotters were based in neighbouring Ivory Coast – where Gen Langley then made a visit.

AFP A huge rally in support of Capt Traoré was held in Ouagadougou on 30 April – along with others in cities around the world, including London

Ivory Coast denied being involved in any plot, while the US Africa Command said Gen Langley’s visit had focused on addressing “common security challenges” – including “violent extremism”. But the junta took the opportunity to organise one of its biggest rallies in Burkina Faso’s capital over fears that “imperialists” and their “lackeys” were trying to depose the captain. “Because Colin Powell lied, Iraq was destroyed. Barack Obama lied, Gaddafi was killed. But this time, their lies won’t affect us,” one protester, musician Ocibi Johann, told the Associated Press news agency. Rallies in solidarity with Traoré were also held abroad, including in London, on the same day. He took to social media afterwards, posting in French and English, to express his gratitude to them for sharing his vision “for a new Burkina Faso and a new Africa”, adding: “Together, in solidarity, we will defeat imperialism and neo-colonialism for a free, dignified and sovereign Africa.” It is impossible to say how things will end for the young captain, but he – along with military leaders in Mali and Niger – have certainly shaken up West Africa, and other states have followed their example by ordering French forces to leave. The three military-ruled neighbours have also pulled out of the regional trade and security grouping Ecowas, formed their own alliance, and have ended free trade in the region by announcing the imposition of a 0.5% tariff on goods coming into their countries. Mr Aikins said Traoré could learn from others, pointing out that when Rawlings took power in Ghana at the age of 32, he was known as “Junior Jesus” but after 19 years he left a mixed legacy – he had been unable to stem corruption despite helping to create an “enduring” democracy. For a “lasting legacy”, Mr Aikins said, Traoré should focus on achieving peace and building strong state institutions to bring about good governance rather than “personalising” power and cracking down on dissent.

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Getty Images/BBC

Captain Ibrahim Traoré is the interim leader of Burkina Faso, having taken over the position following a coup which he led against Lieutenant Colonel Paul Henri Damiba in September 2022. The 37-year-old captain had supported Damiba, his commanding officer, in a putsch earlier that year against former president Roch Marc Kaboré.

Since Traoré has been in power, Burkina Faso has played a key role in the withdrawal of three west African states from the regional body Ecowas. Burkina Faso, Niger and Mali have formed an alternative, the Alliance of Sahel States. The Conversation Africa asked researcher Daniel Eizenga where the country was headed under Traoré’s leadership.

Who is Ibrahim Traoré?

Traoré was born in 1988 in Bondokuy, a small town on the route connecting Burkina Faso’s second city – Bobo Dioulasso – and its fourth largest, Ouahigouya. He completed secondary school in Bobo Dioulasso, then moved to the nation’s capital, where he studied at the University of Ouagadougou.

After completing his undergraduate education, Traoré joined the army in 2010 at the age of 22. He undertook his officer training in Pô at the Georges Namoano Military Academy, an officer school for the Burkinabe armed forces. He graduated as a second lieutenant in 2012 and served as a peacekeeper in the United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission to Mali (Minusma) after being promoted to lieutenant in 2014.

After his stint with Minusma, Traoré took part in missions in northern Burkina Faso as part of a special counterterrorism unit. He was promoted to captain in 2020 at the age of 32.

Damiba led a coup against Kaboré in January 2022. He then assigned Traoré as chief of an artillery regiment in the North Central region of Burkina Faso.

As it became clear that Damiba was losing popularity within the junta, Traoré and a group of junior officers organised a coup. They seized on public and military outrage around an ambush that left 11 soldiers and dozens of civilians dead.

What has been the response to his rule in Burkina Faso?

Some media reports suggest that the young captain and his junta enjoy popular support throughout the country. Some have even drawn comparisons between Traoré and Burkina Faso’s earlier leftist revolutionary military leader, Captain Thomas Sankara. It’s true that the two captains did take power at the age of 34. But the comparisons end at their rank and age.

During the 1980s and nearing the end of the cold war, Sankara came to power as ideological division split the Burkinabe armed forces. Officers supporting Sankara led a coup in 1983. Viewed as a Marxist revolutionary, Sankara attempted to enact political reforms. They included policies to boost public political participation, empower women, address environmental degradataion and reduce inequalities.

Traoré’s position is much more precarious. Most military officers did not participate in either his coup or the one led by Damiba, underscoring the fragmented state of Burkina Faso’s armed forces. Traoré’s junta has claimed there have been multiple attempts at destabilisation or coups. This highlights the arbitrary means by which power has changed hands and the inherent instability present under junta rule.

To shore up his position, Traoré has launched a restructuring drive. This has included redirecting revenues from taxes, the mining sector, and other sources of public revenues into defence coffers. He has also mobilised volunteers to fight violent extremists as part of the Volunteers for the Defence of the Homeland, a junta-sponsored civilian militia. There are reports that forced conscription has been used to send “volunteers” to the front lines of battle. The conflict data indicate that the strategy is not working.

Traoré may not be as popular among ordinary people as he is often portrayed. This is inferred from the violent repression of critics, multiple alleged coup attempts as well as the ongoing violence and humanitarian crisis. He has cracked down hard on independent voices. Journalists, civil society leaders, political party leaders and even judges have been targeted by the junta with its forced conscription tactics and other forms of violent repression.

What about external players?

The September 2022 coup d’état got the attention of Russian foreign information manipulation and interference campaigns. The campaigns were linked to the shadowy Russian mercenary outfit, the Wagner Group. Other Russian information campaigns employed fake social media accounts that pose as Africans with a genuine interest in Burkina Faso. These accounts promote divisive rhetoric that places blame on France and other western countries for local grievances such as ongoing insecurity.

Aiming to boost support for himself immediately following the coup, Traoré trained his sights on capturing the anti-French sentiment. He blamed the French for many of the country’s woes and cast Damiba as a close French ally. Within a few months, Traoré demanded the French withdraw its security presence from Burkina Faso altogether.

Since the French withdrawal, Russian mercenaries have been seen providing protection for Traoré and reportedly supporting operations near the border with Mali. However, only some 100-300 Russian forces have gone to Burkina Faso. This suggests that the focus is on regime security for Traoré and his junta.

What does the future hold?

Traoré’s actions have not improved the security situation in the country. There have been at least 3,059 violent events linked to militant Islamist groups since he came to power in October 2022. This is a 20% increase in comparison to two years preceding the coup. The number of fatalities linked to militant Islamist violence nearly doubled from 3,621 in 2022 to 6,389 in 2024.

The violence has also spread throughout the country to affect nearly every region and increased along Burkina Faso’s southern border. It’s likely that the data is under-reported.

The junta has claimed to have foiled several coup plots since Traoré’s power grab. A foiled plot came in September 2024 only a few weeks after the deadliest massacre the country has ever suffered. Violent extremists killed hundreds of civilians outside the town of Barsalogho. Civilian fatalities linked to militant Islamist groups have increased from 721 in 2022 to 1,151 deaths in 2024.

Perhaps more worrying are the civilian fatalities linked to the military or its sponsored militia.

The violence in Burkina Faso presents an alarming outlook in which the collapse of the country cannot be ruled out. The military has reemerged as the principal political actor. By some counts the military has been directly or indirectly in power for 45 of the 65 years since Burkina Faso became independent.

All the while, the militant Islamist insurgency embroils more and more of the countryside at great human cost. Some estimates place the number of people displaced by violence as high as 3 million, though the junta will not provide an official figure. That is more than 10% of the population of some 24 million people. Another million or more students may not be in school due to conflict and ongoing insecurity.

Despite the effort to present Traoré as a bold reformer and saviour, the political, security and economic ramifications from his junta rule will reverberate through Burkina Faso for decades to come.

Long revered by radical youths and activists across Africa, Thomas Sankara finally also achieved a measure of government recognition in his country, Burkina Faso, on the thirty-sixth anniversary of his assassination in a military coup. For years, the commemorations of the late president’s death were organized by civil and political groups inspired by his revolutionary achievements and ideas. But on October 15, 2023, Burkina Faso’s governing military regime, keen for more popular support, made the anniversary an official event for the first time. Sankara was named a “hero of the nation,” the day was proclaimed an annual national holiday, President Ibrahim Traoré laid flowers at his memorial site, and one of the capital’s main thoroughfares was renamed for Sankara—from its previous designation as Boulevard Charles de Gaulle, the French president when the country gained its independence from France.

Burkinabè, as the citizens of that West African nation are known, have a keen sense of their history. For them, Sankara’s brief period at the helm, from 1983 to 1987, was a time when many changes came to their poor, landlocked country, and simultaneously transformed it from the little-know ex-colony called Upper Volta (Haute Volta in French) into the re-born Burkina Faso, “land of the upright” from two African languages. Many embraced the new name as unapologetically African and took pride in their charismatic young president, who audaciously challenged some of the most powerful countries on the world stage. While Burkinabè were most aware of his government’s domestic accomplishments, people elsewhere in Africa and beyond were attracted by Sankara’s frequent expressions of solidarity with oppressed people across the global South.

For a time, the replacement of Sankara’s government by a brutal authoritarian regime made it exceedingly difficult for Burkinabè to openly affirm his legacy. But pan-African networks of activists helped preserve and circulate his speeches and ideas outside Burkina Faso’s borders. As popular musicians in West Africa incorporated Sankara quotes and images into their videos, some inevitably reached a Burkinabè audience as well. Researchers and scholars also helped disseminate the history of Burkina Faso’s “Sankarist” revolution. Collections of Sankara’s speeches and interviews were published in their original French and in English translation, as well as in various editions in Germany and South Africa, among other countries. A major website provided access to many original documents, analytical articles, news, commentaries, and reminiscences by Sankara’s colleagues. A number of books recounted the history of Sankara and his revolution, among them Bruno Jaffré’s pioneering biography in French. In English there have been this author’s two books (from which parts of this article are drawn), a short, popular biography of Sankara and a political history of Burkina Faso that devoted several chapters to the revolution. As well, a major recent historical work by Brian Peterson drew on new archival research and extensive interviews with Sankara’s contemporaries. And an edited collection provided numerous analyses and critiques of the Sankara era and its legacies.

An unlikely revolution

Before 1983, no one would have predicted that the country would have such a lasting a revolutionary experience. Decades of colonial rule by France had left the territory one of the poorest, least-urbanized, and least-developed in Africa. From the perspective of Paris, Upper Volta was a minor possession, with few exploitable resources beyond land to grow cotton or the labor of its people—hundreds of thousands of whom were conscripted to work on roads, railways, and plantations in other French colonies. Little was invested in infrastructure, economic development, or the health and education of the people. Independence in 1960 brought little change, except for political instability and a succession of coups.

To some observers, the August 1983 seizure of power by Sankara’s National Council of the Revolution (CNR) was just another military takeover. Certainly, Sankara was an army captain, and a number of key colleagues were officers as well. But they overthrew a previous military junta as part of a broad political coalition that included several leftist political groups, some trade unions, the student movement, and other civilian activists. The CNR and its cabinet were hybrid institutions that drew from various sectors of society and attracted strong and active support from the young, the poor, and others marginalized by the old order.

Like several other military-led revolutions in Africa (at different times, Benin, Congo-Brazzaville, Ethiopia, Egypt, Ghana, Libya, Madagascar, Somalia, and Sudan), the process initiated in 1983 could be considered a “revolution from above.” But it also had significant engagement from below. The young leaders of the CNR (Sankara was just thirty-three at the time) made it clear from the outset that they were not interested in making just a few minor modifications at the top. They wanted to fundamentally transform the country, symbolizing that rupture by changing the country’s name from its old French colonial designation to one that asserted an unambiguous African identity. Besides restructuring the judiciary, military, and other state institutions, the governing council attacked corruption and conspicuous consumption by the nation’s elite. Government ministers had their salaries and bonuses cut and their limousines taken away. Sankara publicly declared all his assets (and insisted his comrades do the same), kept his own children in public school, and rebuffed relatives who sought state jobs.

Sankara was open about his ideological beliefs: Marxist, but non-dogmatic. He refrained from calling the revolutionary process “socialist” or “communist,” often framing it instead as “anti-imperialist.” That entailed countering external domination, constructing a unified nation, building up the economy’s productive capacities, and addressing the population’s most pressing social problems, such as widespread hunger, disease, and illiteracy. Particularly in such an arid country, environmental sustainability became a central priority. Hundreds of new wells were dug, and reservoirs built to better conserve the little water the country had. Farmers were taught how to combat soil erosion and improve their yields without chemical fertilizers. Millions of trees were planted across the countryside. In recognizing the importance of environmental issues, Burkina Faso was well ahead of many other African countries at the time.

It also was a forerunner in stressing improvements in women’s conditions and rights: women’s literacy classes, maternity training in rural villages, support for women’s cooperatives and market associations, and a new family code that set a minimum age for marriage, established divorce by mutual consent, recognized a widow’s right to inherit, and suppressed the bride price. Some women were appointed as judges, provincial high commissioners, directors of state enterprises, and even cabinet ministers.

‘A troublesome man’

On the external front, Burkina Faso’s policies and alignments took a sharp turn: away from France and other Western powers and toward anti-imperialist, revolutionary, and radical nationalist movements and governments across the global south. Few outside Africa had previously heard anything about the country, given its relatively small population (about 8 million at the time), miniscule economic weight, and location on the edge of the Sahara. But by speaking out at various international gatherings on behalf of many other countries and peoples, Sankara’s voice projected more strongly than some might have expected.

In part, that was because his messages echoed widely. But also because of the audacity with which he often presented them. A 1986 visit to Burkina Faso by French President François Mitterrand provided a dramatic illustration. Sankara departed from the host’s customary diplomatic niceties by challenging his visitor to a “duel” of ideas: a plea for the rights of the Palestinian people, defense of Nicaragua then under attack by US-backed “contras,” and criticism of the French authorities for their policies in Africa and toward African immigrants at home. Mitterrand set aside his prepared remarks and responded to Sankara point by point. He praised the Burkinabè president for his frank talk about such serious questions, and admitted that with Sankara, it was not easy to maintain a calm conscience or to “sleep peacefully.” Mitterrand quipped, “This is a somewhat troublesome man, President Sankara!”

Several overarching foreign policy goals emerged from Sankara’s speeches, declarations, and interventions at international meetings, including those of the United Nations, Non-Aligned Movement, Organization of African Unity (OAU, now the African Union), and other bodies. First, as exemplified by his interchanges with Mitterrand, he sought to establish as clearly as possible that Burkina Faso no longer followed direction from Paris, Washington, or other Western capitals (even though his government continued to welcome their financial aid). Second, Burkina Faso would assert its sovereignty by establishing relations with any state in the world, including those considered hostile to the West (Cuba, China, the Soviet Union, North Korea, etc.). Third, in accord with its revolutionary ideals, it would solidarize with—and sometimes directly assist—oppressed peoples and liberation movements across the globe. And fourth, it would press for genuine pan-African unity, to be expressed through concrete action by African governments and peoples, not just with occasional declarations.

In 1984 in Harlem, this writer first witnessed Sankara’s ability to connect with far-flung audiences. That year, the Burkinabè president set off to address the UN General Assembly. On the way he first stopped off in Havana, where he was awarded Cuba’s highest honor. Displeased, the conservative US government of President Ronald Reagan did not allow him to accept an invitation by Atlanta’s mayor, a prominent African-American civil rights figure, to visit that city on his way to the UN. Limited to New York City, Sankara instead addressed a public meeting at a high school in Harlem, where he spoke to a largely African-American crowd of some 500. In an animated talk that included call-and-response exchanges with the cheering audience, Sankara praised Harlem as a center of Black culture and pride and asserted that for African revolutionaries, “our White House is in Black Harlem.”

The next day Sankara spoke at the UN General Assembly. Among a range of other international topics, he touched on a number of US policies, including US support for Israel against Palestinian rights and its own military invasion of the Caribbean island of Grenada the year before. He affirmed solidarity with Nicaragua’s Sandinista revolutionaries, who were then fighting against US-backed rebels. The next year, Sankara visited Nicaragua itself (following another stop in Cuba). There he spoke to a crowd of 200,000 on behalf of all foreign delegations attending a celebration of the Sandinistas’ twenty-fifth anniversary. It was not surprising, therefore, that the government of a small Sahelian country would arouse notable enmity from Washington, as Sankara biographer Peterson confirmed when he uncovered previously classified US diplomatic cables.

Although a strong advocate of pan-Africanism, at the time Sankara had only a few allies among other African heads of state, some of whom he severely criticized for not doing more to build African unity or lessen the suffering of their people. At annual summit meetings of the OAU and during his frequent trips in Africa, he urged Africans to give much more support to the continent’s liberation movements, specifically the struggles in South Africa and Namibia against the white minority apartheid regime. One of his final acts, just a few days before the coup that would end his life, was to host a pan-African anti-apartheid conference in Ouagadougou, the Burkinabè capital. Participants focused on practical ways to assist Southern Africa’s liberation fighters and castigated African governments that collaborated with the apartheid authorities.

Seeing that Africa’s development prospects were being crippled by its crushing foreign debt to Western creditors, Sankara, at a July 1987 summit of the OAU, urged African leaders to simply refuse to pay. Acknowledging that individual African countries were too weak to do so on their own, he proposed that African countries create a “united front” against the debt. The OAU never followed Sankara’s advice. While a number of African leaders were annoyed or irritated by Sankara’s chidings and criticisms, a handful were more openly hostile. In December 1985, the better-armed government of neighboring Mali provoked a brief border war with Burkina Faso, which some analysts saw as partly motivated by fear that Sankara’s popularity among some sectors within Mali could contribute to domestic opposition to that regime. The dictatorship in Togo, another neighboring state, actively supported dissident Burkinabè exiles hostile to Sankara.

Relations with the government of neighboring Côte d’Ivoire were especially tense. Historically, large numbers of Burkinabè migrants lived and worked there, causing the authorities some anxiety over possible loyalties to Sankara and his fellow revolutionaries. The Ivorian government was one of France’s closest allies in Africa and its conservative president, Félix Houphouët-Boigny, was leery of the Burkinabè government’s anti-imperialist stance. He also was well-positioned to influence Burkina Faso’s political course: in 1985 an adopted daughter of Houphouët-Boigny managed to marry the second-highest Burkinabè leader, the minister of defense, Captain Blaise Compaoré.

On October 15, 1987, Compaoré led a coup against Sankara, assassinating him and a dozen aides that day (and more subsequently). A variety of factors played into the coup: infighting among the various political factions within the National Council of the Revolution, alarm that Sankara’s strenuous anticorruption measures might expose or hinder those engaged in illegal dealings, and pressures from abroad, including France and Côte d’Ivoire, to tone down the country’s anti-Western stance. Many Burkinabè believed that France, either directly or through their ally Houphouët-Boigny, helped instigate the coup. Although Compaoré initially claimed to be “rectifying” the revolution, his takeover led to its outright collapse. Burkinabè were shocked and terrified. The Compaoré regime eventually scuttled most of the progressive policies and programs of the Sankara era. Externally, relations grew close with the governments of Côte d’Ivoire, Togo, France, and other Western powers. The French authorities regularly welcomed Compaoré to Paris.

Thanks to significant financial aid from France and other powers and a readiness to use the most brutal force against domestic opponents, Compaoré was able to build a formidable machine capable of lasting twenty-seven years. Under French urging, Compaoré embellished his authoritarian regime with a veneer of multi-party democracy. Despite regular elections, he retained his political dominance through a mixture of electoral fraud, repeated constitutional manipulations, and the corruptions of an extensive patronage system.

The return of ‘Sankarism’

What Compaoré did not expect was that Sankara’s name and legacy would resurface—and loom large as popular discontent mounted. Despite the regime’s repression and success in suppressing formal opposition in the electoral arena, protest and rebellion began to erupt more frequently from the late 1990s onward. As I previously wrote, those challenges opened the way for more overt expressions of admiration for Sankara during the following decade. It was marked most visibly by periodic commemorations of the anniversary of Sankara’s assassination, as well as by the emergence of a variety of small political parties, student associations, and other groups that explicitly drew inspiration from the ideas, practices, and achievements of the revolutionary era.

Not all were drawn to Sankara’s example for the same reasons. Some admired his anti-imperialism and dedication to building national sovereignty. Others appreciated his practical ideas for economic and social development. Many cited his personal integrity and efforts to eradicate corruption. Some acknowledged that there had been human rights abuses during his presidency, but tended to blame those on hardliners and zealots within the CNR—some of whom were aligned with Compaoré. Meanwhile, the foundations of the Compaoré regime started to erode. After repeated manipulations of the constitution to enable him to stand for reelection beyond the constitution’s original term limits, he sought to do so once again in 2013. But that was a step too far. Already incensed by widespread poverty, rights abuses, and rampant corruption, people across the country reacted in anger and outrage, crystallized in their demand that Compaoré leave power after the end of his current term. When he pushed ahead anyway, unprecedented mass rallies, marches, and general strikes swept the country, the popular pressure impelling the fragmented opposition parties, activist groups, and trade unions to mount a coordinated struggle.

Most of those groups’ leaders did not particularly draw inspiration from Sankara. They simply wanted Compaoré out, to be replaced by a more genuine democratic system. Yet in the months leading up to Compaoré’s ouster, symbols of Sankara were virtually everywhere. Protesters carried his portrait. His recorded voice rang out over sound systems. Quotations from his speeches were featured in popular chants. Even politically moderate opposition leaders often concluded speeches with the emblematic slogan of Sankara’s revolutionary government: “La patrie ou la mort, nous vaincrons!” (Homeland or death, we will win!). One of the main activist groups was Balai citoyen (“Citizens’ Broom”), launched just a couple of years earlier by several musicians with wide followings among Burkinabè youths. According to one of them, the rap artist known as Smockey, they adopted Sankara as their symbolic patron. Smockey later told me that they admired Sankara’s “courage and determination to build a Burkina Faso of social justice and inclusive development,” as well as his personal “simplicity, modesty, and integrity … a model for anyone aspiring to manage public property.”

During the final week of October 2014, with Compaoré stubbornly refusing to abandon his efforts to violate the constitution, the demonstrations acquired an insurrectionary momentum. As several dozen protesters fell before the bullets of the security forces, the activists of Balai citoyen and other youth groups erected barricades, occupied the streets, and seized key government installations. Compaoré fled the country, under the protection of French special forces. Two weeks later, a transitional government was formed, with a mandate to conduct essential reforms and prepare new elections. The cabinet and interim parliament were politically diverse, including technocrats, intellectuals, army officers, civil society figures, and a few radical activists, among them several Sankarists. Following a failed attempt to retake power by a pro-Compaoré military faction, elections were ultimately held in November 2015. The winners had once been leading figures in Compaoré’s party, although they had broken with him before the final political showdown. Admirers of Sankara were influential in the realm of ideas, but much less in terms of practical politics, in part because they were fractured into numerous parties and associations.

Meanwhile, judicial prosecutors opened an inquiry into Sankara’s assassination, as well as several other political murders during the Compaoré era. They conducted forensic analyses, took testimony from witnesses, and were able to acquire some previously secret documentation from France. More than a dozen individuals were ultimately charged, including Compaoré, who was then living in exile in Côte d’Ivoire and could therefore be tried only in absentia. The trial began in October 2021 and lasted six months. Several were acquitted or received suspended sentences. The military tribunal sentenced others to varying prison terms—and Compaoré and two others to life. The court maintained an international arrest warrant against Compaoré (although the Ivorian government refused to respond and even afforded him citizenship). Activists also urged investigators to continue gathering evidence on the international aspects of the case, including the roles of Côte d’Ivoire, France, and any other government that might have been involved. Although the French authorities previously declassified some documents, they did not release any under a “national defense” designation, stoking suspicions that they had something to hide.

In the meantime, the elected government of President Marc Roch Christian Kaboré struggled with an Islamist insurgency initiated by groups affiliated with Al-Qaida and the Islamic State. Initially the insurgents struck into Burkina Faso from bases in neighboring Mali and Niger, but gradually took root within the country. By 2022 large parts of the border regions of the north and east had escaped effective government control, and the tolls of Burkinabè civilians killed or displaced from their homes mounted. The Kaboré government’s inability to ensure security triggered a military coup in January 2022, and when that junta foundered on the battlefield, another one in September. The new leadership, headed by Captain Ibrahim Traoré, took a more energetic approach, including through popular mobilizations. Both to strengthen that effort and to shore up their own political legitimacy, the authorities repeatedly invoked Sankara’s legacy.

Activists who had long advocated the ideals of Sankara’s revolutionary era welcomed that official support. But perhaps realizing that government backing might eventually fade or end, they also emphasized the need to maintain a grassroots momentum. Speaking on the anniversary of the late president’s assassination, Daouda Traoré, vice-president of the committee that initiated the Sankara memorial in Ouagadougou, vowed that he and his colleagues would not only expand the site, but also their educational activities. He said that promoting Sankara’s “memory and values”—and linking his vision to concrete actions—was important for the people of Burkina Faso and the rest of Africa.

Further Reading on E-International Relations

Let us stop celebrating coups aimed at furthering the interests of a few military elites as acts of anti-imperialist resistance.

On August 17, Arikana Chihombori-Quao, former permanent representative of the African Union to the United States, claimed the recent military coups in Niger, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Guinea were part of the early stages of an “African revolution” against Western neocolonialism.

“What is going on now in Africa is a revolution similar to what we saw with the demise of the mighty Roman Empire, similar to what we saw with the fall of the mighty British Empire,” Chihombori-Quao said in an interview with New York-based Nigerian news channel Arise TV.

This wave of military interventions is a reaction to the West’s ongoing “plunder of the continent’s natural resources”, she explained. “This is just the beginning of the African revolution and it is not going to stop.”

Chihombori-Quao went on to argue that these recent coups “led by our people” represent “children of Africa taking back what is ours” and have nothing in common with the brutal Western-led military interventions of the past.

Sure, Western powers committed particularly heinous crimes against young African democracies in the last century. The Western-orchestrated 1960 coup in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), for example, saw the country’s first democratically elected prime minister, independence hero Patrice Lumumba, assassinated by a hastily put together firing squad and his remains dissolved in acid. All for the fear that he may have brought the DRC closer to the Soviet Union and given Moscow access to its precious natural resources.

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These recent coups thankfully did not include such atrocities and were not overtly aimed at furthering the interests of colonial power. But does this automatically mean they were “led by our people”, and aimed at delivering on the people’s wish to end colonial plunder, as Chihombori-Quao claims?

Not so much.

First of all, every single one of these coups was led by powerful and privileged high-ranking army officers – men whose lives are far removed from the everyday experiences of “our people”. And these men appear more than willing to suppress the voice of the people, whenever it happens not to align with theirs. They have no problem with crippling democracy or even physically harming the very people they claim to represent when it fits their agenda.

These men not only upended the democratic process by toppling governments brought to power by reasonably free and fair elections, but are also dragging their feet about setting a date for new polls. Mali’s military government – like the unelected regimes in nearby Chad and Sudan – has repeatedly delayed a transition to democracy. There is not much hope for Niger, Burkina Faso or Guinea’s swift return to full democracy either.

In May, the United Nations reported that Malian troops – with the help of foreign military personnel – tortured, raped and killed at least 500 civilians during a five-day anti-dissident operation in Moura in March 2022.

Around the same time, Human Rights Watch reported that on April 20, 2023, Burkinabe soldiers burned homes, looted property and summarily executed at least 156 civilians in a similar six-hour operation in Karma, northern Yatenga province.

Coup leaders like to talk the anti-imperialist talk because it gives them legitimacy and helps them garner public support, but they are much more reluctant to walk the walk.

Burkina Faso’s interim president, Ibrahim Traore, for example, likes to employ fierce anti-imperialist rhetoric at every opportunity.

Speaking at the Russia-Africa Summit in July, for example, Traore took a swipe at Africa’s older leaders, saying, “The heads of African states should not behave like puppets in the hands of the imperialists.”

But, ironically, he has openly demonstrated sycophantic affection for Vladimir Putin of Russia, a prominent and particularly brutal imperial force in Eastern Europe, and increasingly in Africa.

Traore is not the only “anti-imperialist coupist” in Africa who appears suspiciously blind to Russia’s demonstrably brutal imperialism.

The military government in Mali is known to be very close to the Kremlin and has had help from the Russian Wagner mercenary group in its efforts to stifle dissent. Niger’s coup generals have also openly asked Wagner for help in dealing with the West African regional bloc, ECOWAS.

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So much for coup leaders standing with everyday Africans against imperial powers.

This, of course, is not meant to minimise the harm Western colonialism inflicted on Africa. The West has been for centuries, and remains to this day, the most destructive outside actor and the strongest force against swift, independent development and deepening of democracy on the continent.

Indeed, the remnants of the West’s abusive colonial arrangements are still crippling African states, politically and economically.

For example, 14 African countries, including Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso, still use the neocolonial CFA franc – which is guaranteed by France and pegged to the euro – as its currency.

In return, France requires these countries to keep 50 percent of their foreign exchange reserves with the French treasury.

This adverse and costly financial entanglement has allowed Paris to exercise undue and outsized influence over CFA franc countries’ economic and political affairs.

As a result, most of these countries have struggled to flourish in the postcolonial era. Niger, for example, is one of the world’s poorest and least developed countries. Along with Mali, Burkina Faso and Guinea, it occupies the lowest ranks on the United Nations Development Programme’s Human Development Index.

While Russia is undoubtedly a destructive imperial power, both in Africa and elsewhere, it is the West that is primarily responsible for Africa’s chronic economic and developmental shortcomings.

This is perhaps why Chihombori-Quao is turning a blind eye to the close relations Africa’s new military leaders have with Russia, and insisting on presenting them as anticolonial revolutionaries.

In fact, she seems to believe in the anti-imperialist credentials and anticolonial intentions of these generals so much that she describes their actions not as coups but an “ideological realignment of economic, political and social values”.

But what have these military regimes said or done so far to achieve that much-longed-for realignment? Are they charting a new path forward for an independent Africa, free of all imperial intervention and manipulation? Have they, for example, announced any plans for bringing an end to the CFA?

Sadly, it seems, these new military regimes, despite their anti-imperialist posturing, lack a strong ideological grounding and political direction.

I am an African. I know what colonialism has done, and what neocolonialism is still doing to these lands. As such, just like Chihombori-Quao, I also long for an African revolution to put an end to this plunder. I want predatory Western governments and companies to end their exploitation of Africa and all African nations to stand tall and independent in the international arena.

But I refuse to support undemocratic actions.

What we are witnessing in Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso and beyond is not the beginning of an “African revolution”. What we are witnessing is just a few military elites taking advantage of the genuine suffering and frustration of their people to further their interests. They are employing anti-imperialist rhetoric to win support from the streets, but doing very little to actually further Africa’s independence and free it from the clutches of outside powers.

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Every coup, regardless of any anti-imperialist or populist facade it may put on, is an attack on democracy. Military rule, however people-oriented it may appear to be, is always a threat to the rule of law. And it is not the ideal vehicle for promoting solid economic growth and development.

Chihombori-Quao is right – African countries do have a moral and economic imperative to end neocolonialism. Nevertheless, they also have an obligation to respect people’s human rights and implement any necessary sociopolitical and economic changes to ensure true African independence within a democratic framework.

Let us stop celebrating harmful power plays by self-centred military elites as acts of anti-imperialist resistance, and focus instead on planting the seeds for a true African revolution that would end neocolonial theft of our resources for good, and empower everyday Africans to shape their own future free from oppression.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.