Since seizing power in a September 2022 coup, Captain Ibrahim Traoré, Burkina Faso’s 37-year-old transitional president, has captivated Africa’s youth and polarised global observers. To his supporters, he is a modern-day Thomas Sankara—a fearless nationalist dismantling neocolonial shackles, nationalising resources, and championing self-reliance. To his critics, Traoré is a military strongman cloaking authoritarianism in populist rhetoric, undermining democratic institutions while offering false promises of progress. The truth, as ever, lies in a complex interplay of ambition, ideology, and governance challenges that demand scrutiny beyond the binary of hero or villain.
Traoré’s rise is rooted in Burkina Faso’s turbulent reality. The country, plagued by jihadist insurgencies controlling an estimated 40% of its territory, has endured years of insecurity, economic stagnation, and governance failures under both democratic and military regimes. Traoré, a young artillery officer with a geology degree, capitalised on public disillusionment following the ousting of interim president Lieutenant-Colonel Paul-Henri Sandaogo Damiba. His bold moves—expelling French troops, rejecting the CFA franc, and forming the Alliance des États du Sahel (Alliance of Sahel States AES) with Mali and Niger—have resonated with a generation yearning for sovereignty and dignity. His nationalisation of gold mines, projected to generate 51.5 billion CFA francs for the state, and investments in agriculture and infrastructure signal a commitment to economic independence.
Across Burkinabè and Francophone media, Traoré is often portrayed as a revolutionary icon. Outlets like Sidwaya highlight his reopening of 400 schools in terrorist-affected areas and his refusal to draw a presidential salary, framing him as a selfless leader. On platforms like FasoZine and L’Observateur Paalga, his Pan-Africanist rhetoric and defiance of Western powers, particularly France, earn praise from those who see him as a bulwark against neocolonialism. Protests across Africa and the diaspora on 30 April 2025, denouncing alleged Western destabilisation plots, underscore his continental appeal. Traoré’s invocation of Sankara’s legacy, coupled with his rejection of French aid and military presence, taps into a deep vein of anti-imperialist sentiment, positioning him as a symbol of African agency.
Yet, the sheen of Traoré’s revolution dulls under closer inspection. His governance has taken an undeniably authoritarian turn. Since 2022, he has suspended political parties, cracked down on press freedom, and silenced civil society, actions he justifies as necessary for a “popular, progressive revolution.” Reports from Le Faso and Burkina24 document the abduction of critics like human rights defender Dr Daouda Diallo and journalist and lawyer Guy-Hervé Kam, allegedly by state-affiliated “death squads.” The junta’s control of state media and bans on foreign outlets, including the websites of German broadcaster Deutsche Welle, French newspapers Le Monde and Ouest-France, British newspaper the Guardian, and African agencies APA and Ecofin, signal a deliberate stifling of dissent. Traoré’s creation of 50,000 civilian Volunteers for the Defence of the Homeland and rapid intervention battalions has bolstered his security apparatus, but allegations of violence against Fulani communities raise concerns about ethnic targeting.
Traoré’s anti-democratic stance is a focal point of contention. He dismisses liberal democracy as a Western imposition, arguing that Burkina Faso is “in a revolution, not a democracy.” While he cites authoritarian success stories like China and Rwanda, critics point to counterexamples, Botswana, Mauritius, and South Africa, where imperfect democracies have driven development without sacrificing freedoms. Traoré’s vision of “popular democracy,” involving mass participation and economic transformation, is compelling in theory but lacks transparency in practice. The absence of a clear timeline for elections, coupled with his dismissal of civilian Prime Minister Apollinaire Joachim Kyélem de Tambèla in December 2024, fuels fears that he intends to entrench military rule.
Economically, Traoré’s policies are a double-edged sword. Nationalising resources and reducing reliance on foreign aid are bold steps, but they risk isolating Burkina Faso from global markets. The AES’s withdrawal from ECOWAS and plans to exit the CFA franc could disrupt regional trade and economic stability. While Traoré’s agricultural mechanisation and gold refinery projects are promising, their long-term viability depends on efficient management—historically a challenge for state-led enterprises in Africa. His flirtation with Russian military support, including 200 personnel deployed since 2023, raises questions about swapping one foreign influence for another.
Traoré’s personal style adds another layer of complexity. His immaculate white fatigues, animist beliefs, and reliance on figures like Amsetou Nikiéma ‘Adja the healer’ project an enigmatic charisma that captivates supporters but alienates traditional elites and senior military officers. Reports of paranoia, evidenced by his frequent residence changes and purges of perceived rivals, suggest a leader under siege, both internally and externally. Foiled coup attempts in September 2023 and April 2025, allegedly backed by Côte d’Ivoire, underscore the fragility of his grip on power.
For all his revolutionary fervour, Traoré’s leadership echoes a familiar African archetype – the soldier-saviour promising salvation but risking repression. History, from Mobutu to Mengistu, warns of the perils of such charisma unchecked by institutions. Yet, dismissing Traoré as a dictator ignores the genuine grievances he exploits, decades of misgovernance, Western exploitation, and jihadist violence. His appeal reflects not just personal ambition but a broader crisis of democratic legitimacy across the Sahel.
Burkina Faso stands at a crossroads. Traoré’s vision of sovereignty and development could inspire meaningful change if channelled into inclusive governance and robust institutions. But without accountability, his revolution risks becoming a mirage, enticing yet ultimately illusory. The path forward lies not in discarding democracy but in reforming it to serve Burkina Faso’s people. Traoré must decide whether he will be a catalyst for that reform or another cautionary tale in Africa’s long struggle for self-determination.