By Ousainou Allen,
Interim President, NAFAA
In the matrix of Francophone West Africa’s postcolonial order — a structure meticulously designed to mimic independence while perpetuating dependence — Captain Ibrahim Traoré emerged, against all odds, not as a mere ripple, but as a rupture. Still within the youth age bracket, Traoré’s ascent to power in Burkina Faso disrupted not only the political status quo, but also the deep structural alignments that connect former colonies to former colonisers. Unlike the more familiar technocratic or veteran strongman figures in West African politics, Traoré’s youth, rhetoric, and bold policies signal a reawakening of sovereignty in a system built to freeze Africa in time.
Traoré’s emergence comes at a moment of growing dissatisfaction across the Sahel and beyond — a symptom of systems failure within the very architecture that was designed to maintain control over African nations under the guise of postcolonial partnership or globalisation. He is not merely a military leader; he is, for many, the living embodiment of a glitch in the operating system of neocolonialism.
After six decades of “independence”, the imprint of colonialism remains deeply embedded in the institutions, economies, and political cultures of colonies and the nations within the global south. This “neocolonial architecture” is not static ruins of a bygone era; it is a living, well-crafted yet evolving mechanism that maintains the West’s influence through instruments such as monetary imperialism, military agreements, cultural diplomacy, locally-sponsored tribal extremists guised as jihadists, and control over infrastructure and resource extraction.
Burkina Faso, like many of its neighbours, was drawn into the orbit of Françafrique — the shadowy network of political, military, and business ties that allowed France to influence, and often dictate, leadership outcomes and economic decisions across the region. Leaders who resisted this arrangement — like Thomas Sankara — were marginalised and eventually eliminated with the complicity of enablers from their own kin. Those who complied often enjoyed long reigns, at the cost of national sovereignty and popular legitimacy.
The economic architecture reinforced dependency: development aid was tied to compliance, state-owned enterprises were privatised under structural adjustment, and extractive industries served foreign interests more than domestic ones. Foreign (mostly Western) troops, stationed across the Sahel under the banner of counter-terrorism, became permanent fixtures, often viewed by local populations as part of the problem rather than the solution.
This is the context in which Ibrahim Traoré’s rise takes on historical significance. It is not simply about one man or one country. It is about the possibility of dismantling an architecture that has long been assumed indestructible.
Yet perhaps the most enduring challenge is the burden of symbolism. Traoré is seen not just as a leader but as a symbol — of youth-led resistance, anti-imperial defiance, and a Pan-African resurgence all within the broader context of a — yet to be mentioned — Sahelian Civilization. Such expectations are both empowering and perilous. Failure to deliver on this symbolic promise risks disillusionment not only in Burkina Faso but across the region and the global south where billions are watching and hoping for an alternative path.
Traoré is walking a tightrope stretched between history and hope, disruption, consistency, grit and delivery.
A glitch, by definition, is not a permanent feature. It is an interruption in the normal flow that reveals the fragility of the system it disrupts. Traoré and by extension the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) comprised of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger have become that glitch in the neocolonial architecture. Yet, whether this glitch evolves into a new code — a new system of governance, common identity and purpose, sovereignty, and development — depends on what follows this disruption.
The task ahead is monumental. Rejecting imperialism, though an important first step, should be accompanied by the construction of self-sustaining systems — defining one’s cultural identity and purpose, education, agriculture, finance, security, and governance — that affirm agency of one’s population at every level. The danger, as history has shown, is that revolutionary rhetoric without institutional depth can quickly devolve into authoritarian rule or ideological stagnation.
