Over the past five years, the Sahel has been reshaped by a series of military coups justified by promises to overhaul oppressive neocolonial systems. Many citizens looked upon the soldiers who seized power as liberators; men who would break the colonial grip that weighed heavily on their countries long after independence. 

Each junta promised freedom, a new focus on development, and protection – not only from jihadist insurgencies but also from spectral threats of new superpowers inheriting France’s role as exploiter. The strongmen leading Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger are, similarly and in their own way, using anti-imperialist rhetoric to mask new oppressions.

Colonial imposition

France’s post-colonial presence in the Sahel rested on three pillars. Economically, it created the CFA franc, a currency still used in much of West Africa today. The CFA ties national reserves to the French treasury and limits countries’ independence over their own finances. Economic crises were slow to be resolved, imported goods stayed expensive, local industries stagnated, and jobs remained scarce. 

Militarily, France never really left the Sahel after the colonial era. Paris built bases, trained armies, and launched repeated military interventions that often failed to protect the people. 

Then there was the cultural imposition, which fuelled French influence in the region. French remained the language spoken in most key institutions, including government, universities and schools; elite members of society only spoke French and local languages were often looked down upon. Many grew resentful of living in a system that treated their culture as inferior. Increasingly, France was seen as a bootheel, holding the people down on a personal level – and holding nations down from their potential.

The nature of France’s presence in the Sahel opened citizens’ minds to embracing any alternative. Junta leaders positioned themselves as that alternative; the escape route from a system that had oppressed the region for over a hundred years.

Goïta for gold

In Mali, Colonel Assimi Goïta first emerged as a key figure in the anti-government protests against then-President Ibrahim Boubacar Keïta. He led a military coup in 2020, where he initially placed himself as the Vice President of the country. Goïta framed himself, and his movement, as reflecting the people’s will for a necessary reset that would end corruption and foreign meddling. 

For a population exhausted by years of stagnation and insecurity, his message signaled renewal. The people celebrated him as a man of discipline and conviction, someone ‘who did what needed to be done’.

Soon after, Goïta oversaw a second coup. He ordered both the Transitional President Bah Ndaw and Prime Minister Moctar Ouane be arrested and removed after they approved a government reshuffle without his agreement. With that move,  Goïta took direct control – and the facade of a joint military-civilian transition collapsed.

True freedom in the Sahel will not be sold as ‘resistance’ by new oppressors with familiar economic interests in national resources

As with many dictatorships, at first Goïta seemed to deliver on his promises. He tackled corruption left by the previous government and distanced the country from France’s influence, earning admiration across the region. But autocrats are always looking to strengthen their hold on power. Goïta’s anti-foreign meddling stance was quickly undermined when he allowed Russia’s Wagner mercenaries into Mali to support its fight against jihadists in early 2022. 

Russia, like the West, rarely helps for free. The price became clear when Wagner-linked companies such as Mali M Invest and Alpha Development were granted gold-mining concessions in the country’s southern region. While direct gold exports to Russia are conveniently opaque, Moscow’s footprint in Mali’s gold sector has expanded sharply under Goïta’s rule, and with it, the Kremlin’s influence in Africa.

Goïta’s promise to restore democracy has long-since expired. After vowing democratic elections would come after an 18 months ‘transition period’ following the 2020 coup, he rewrote the constitution and extended military rule to 2030. Under the banner of sovereignty, his government has censored journalists, jailed critics, and at one point, banned all political activity in the country. Mali’s liberator has become its warden.

Muddied footsteps

Probably the most visible leader of the recent juntas is Captain Ibrahim Traoré, a man who likens himself to Thomas Sankara, Burkina Faso’s most revered revolutionary – who talked of freedom from both imperialism and complacency. When Traoré came to power in 2022, he painted a picture of freedom and protection to crowds who admired him as the second coming of Sankara; young, uncorrupted, fearless, and very anti-France. 

Traoré expelled French troops at the first chance he could and spoke of a new focus on the people of Burkina Faso. However, he soon followed in Goita’s footsteps, turning to Russia and Turkey for arms and ‘advisers’. 

His government has since scrapped the country’s electoral commission and has arrested or intimidated journalists and activists. It has suspended political parties, conscripted critics into the army and passed new ‘family values’ laws criminalising homosexuality. 

Traoré’s reign reveals the power of propaganda: his image across Africa remains powerful, even as his rule begins to mirror the very authoritarianism he has vowed to oppose.

Transition without end

General Abdourahamane Tchiani, head of Niger’s presidential guard, overthrew President Mohamed Bazoum in July 2023, claiming to save the nation from Western domination. His coup echoed Goita and Traoré’s, wrapped in the same language of liberation and sovereignty. 

Tchiani initially pledged a three-year transition to restore civilian rule following his July 2023 coup, but that promise of course faded. In July of this year, he was formally sworn in as president for a further ‘flexible’ five-year ‘transitional’ term, extending military control well beyond the promised timeline. Tchiani’s closer alignment with Russia and Turkey also echoed the actions of his Sahelian counterparts. Moscow’s state nuclear company Rosatom has already begun courting Niger’s vast uranium reserves – the same resource that once fuelled France’s energy grid. Security deals with the Kremlin have likewise replaced Western cooperation as foreign troops continue to stomp the Nigerien soil, only under a different flag.

The illusion of liberation

The new wave of populist strongmen found in Goïta, Traoré, and Tchiani have shown that in the Sahel, the rhetoric of anti-imperialism can just as easily become the mask of a new empire. From Bamako to Kampala, defiance of ‘the West’ has become a convenient anthem for regimes that are increasingly silencing their own people. 

Authoritarian populism thrives by mirroring what it claims to oppose, using rhetoric of freedom to fortify control. True freedom in the Sahel will not be dressed up in military uniform. It will not be sold as ‘resistance’ by new oppressors with familiar economic interests in national resources. 

Real liberation lies in the people, whose quiet but firm demand for their needs to be prioritised, for power to be answerable, for dignity to replace dependency is unwavering. Only the people of Sahel can provide the promises so many have failed to deliver.