As Ibrahim Traoré Recasts Burkina Faso’s Foreign Ties, Analysts Weigh Whether the Shift Signals Genuine Autonomy or a New Alignment
Burkina Faso’s Captain Ibrahim Traoré touts the expulsion of French influence and rejection of regional blocs as a new era of independence, but critics warn his anti-colonial revolution is masking an old-fashioned authoritarian consolidation.
OUAGADOUGOU, Burkina Faso – In a fiery address earlier this year, Captain Ibrahim Traoré, interim president and head of Burkina Faso’s armed forces, railed against lingering French influence and urged his people “to fight against imperialism and to decolonize mentalities.” Recently marking two years since he seized power through a coup, the 37-year-old Burkinabè leader has cast himself as the champion of a new “decolonization” drive, expelling French troops, quitting West Africa’s regional bloc and embracing Russia, all in the name of reclaiming national sovereignty.
Since Traoré’s rule began, Burkina Faso, a landlocked country situated on the Sahel just south of the Sahara Desert, has withdrawn from international alliances and aligned itself with new foreign partners like Russia. These decisions are intensifying questions surrounding Traoré’s anti-colonial crusade, as many wonder if Traoré is in a genuine pursuit of self-determination or if his rhetoric is a cover for entrenching authoritarian rule.
The stakes are high in a nation beset by jihadist violence and a stalled democratic transition. Traoré’s junta has postponed elections and extended military rule by five years, citing security needs even as observers warn of deepening democratic backsliding.
Since overthrowing the previous government in September 2022, Traoré has begun targeting France’s influence within Burkina Faso, particularly given that France was the country’s former colonizer. Within months of his coup, he ordered French counterterrorism forces to leave and tore up a military assistance pact with Paris. This move was amid surging anti-French sentiment amongst the Burkinabè, which Traoré has also played a notable part in fomenting. In France’s place, Traoré has pivoted to Moscow, publicly hailing Russia as a strategic ally and major supplier of arms, even as he pointedly denied the presence of Kremlin-linked mercenaries on the ground.
In January 2024, Burkina Faso joined its fellow military-led neighbors Mali and Niger in announcing a shock withdrawal from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). A joint statement by the three juntas said they had “decided in complete sovereignty on the immediate withdrawal” from ECOWAS, accusing the bloc of falling “under the influence of foreign powers” and betraying member states. The move severed Ouagadougou from a key regional institution. Traoré argued that foreign sanctions and pressure, notably ECOWAS’ demands for rapid elections, infringed on Burkina’s autonomy, thus doubling down on his regime’s standalone stance.
For Traoré’s supporters, these bold steps represent a long-overdue reclamation of African agency after decades of perceived neo-colonial meddling. However, seasoned Sahel observers see a more cynical pattern at play.
“In my view, the anti-imperialism discourse is a rhetoric that is being used to give the regime a legitimacy base, in lieu of democracy,” says Dr. Idrissa Abdoulaye, an expert on Sahelian politics at the University of Leiden. He notes that, before Traoré, Burkina Faso was not under the thumb of any external overlord to the extent the junta claims, and the country’s limited sovereignty had more to do with poverty than French domination.
In Abdoulaye’s analysis, Traoré’s government may simply be swapping one patron for another. The junta “moved closer to Russia, which was absent [from Burkina] before he came to power,” he says, and has “actively built dependence on Russian power for his regime’s safety,” even granting a Russian firm rights to mine gold.
“This suggests that neocolonialism can actually be initiated by the neocolonized himself,” Abdoulaye quips, pointing to the irony of Ouagadougou courting new foreign benefactors while denouncing old ones.
At home, Traoré has tightened his grip with tactics all too familiar to the region. “Traoré’s regime has followed the playbook of how military regimes have been established in the past in the Sahel,” Dr. Abdoulaye observes, listing steps like “the suspension of political institutions… the closure of the public square… and deployment of a propaganda machine.” Traoré has been “very effective in doing all the above,” he says. Yet the junta’s central promise to swiftly restore security has gone unmet, with insecurity remaining widespread despite official claims to the contrary.
As of 2023, over 2 million Burkinabè had been displaced by Al-Qaeda and other insurgent violence, and more than 8,000 people were killed that year alone, the deadliest toll since Burkina Faso’s islamist insurgency escalated in 2016. Additionally, large portions of rural territory remain outside state control. In March 2024, Human Rights Watch reported that more than 130 civilians were killed near the town of Solenzo in an operation involving Burkinabè special forces and allied militia, making it one of the deadliest incidents of the war.
Yet, Traoré’s regime has worked to project confidence and control the narrative. State media trumpet supposed military successes, and officials have dismissed reports of army-perpetrated killings as “disinformation.” Domestic dissent is largely muzzled under emergency measures. In some cases, state media has even gone so far as to use A.I. to create falsified endorsements of Traoré from celebrities such as the Pope and Beyoncé, and even controversial figures such as R.Kelly.
Despite persistent insecurity, Adboulaye argues that the public has been cowed into acquiescence. “Not much: the propaganda machine has explained this away, and since no one is allowed to contest it… people have let it slide. In general, the Burkinabè have been changed into sheep,” he said.
Burkina Faso’s anti-neocolonial rhetoric is echoing across the region. Traoré has positioned himself alongside Mali’s Colonel Assimi Goïta and Niger’s General Abdourahmane Tchiani in a hardline anti-Western front. The three juntas formed a mutual defense pact, the Alliance des États du Sahel or Alliance of Sahel States (AES), touting self-reliance in security against jihadist insurgency. All have expelled French forces and embraced new partnerships as they champion “sovereignty,” a move that has bolstered Traoré’s image among pan-Africanists.
As Traoré’s “revolutionary” government forges ahead, signs of a genuine democratic transition remain scant. In May, a forum convened by the junta approved a new charter extending Burkina’s transition until 2029, and notably allowing Traoré himself to run in the eventual elections.
ECOWAS, for its part, has so far refrained from heavy sanctions over Burkina’s defection, avoiding punishments that would hit ordinary Burkinabè. The logic, Abdoulaye says, is not to burn bridges ahead of an eventual return to civilian rule. “The juntas exited ECOWAS to protect their regime… but there will be a day after the juntas,” Abdoulaye said, arguing that regional leaders wisely chose not to create lasting bad blood with Burkina’s population.
For now, Traoré continues to ride a wave of nationalist fervor even as the fundamentals of Burkina Faso’s crisis remain unresolved. Observers will be watching whether his promises of a sovereign rebirth translate into tangible improvements, or whether the country is simply trading one form of dependency for another under a new strongman.
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