Burkina Faso’s elusive security: a nation’s shifting priorities

There was a time when Burkina Faso garnered more attention for its relative stability than for the unfolding tragedies within its borders. While that era was not without its critics, who frequently accused Blaise Compaoré of consolidating power, stifling political life, and limiting democratic transitions throughout his twenty-seven-year tenure, a fundamental question now resonates across the nation.

With the benefit of hindsight, many Burkinabè today ponder the value of political debate when citizens can no longer live safely. This pressing concern shapes conversations, as locals often contrast the perceived stability of the Compaoré years with the current precarious situation under Captain Ibrahim Traoré.

During Blaise Compaoré’s presidency, Burkina Faso was not a country where residents lived under the constant threat of armed assault. People moved freely between regions, farmers cultivated their land, merchants supplied vital markets, and families embarked on journeys without the pervasive fear that each trip might end in disaster. The wave of terrorism that would later engulf the Sahel had not yet plunged the nation into a security crisis of such overwhelming magnitude.

This historical context does not, however, erase the legitimate criticisms leveled against his administration. Instead, it underscores a foundational truth: the primary responsibility of any state is to safeguard the security of its citizens. Absent this core protection, the very essence of freedoms, reforms, and political promises largely dissipates.

Upon Captain Ibrahim Traoré’s ascension to power through a military coup, Burkinabè citizens harbored fervent hopes for a decisive shift in the security landscape. The new authorities pledged a comprehensive reconquest of national territory, a robust assertion of sovereignty, and a more effective strategy against armed groups. Yet, nearly several years later, it is evident that these ambitious goals continue to contend with an exceptionally challenging reality on the ground.

Under Ibrahim Traoré’s governance, official communiqués frequently highlight military operations and significant victories by the defense forces. Nevertheless, in numerous regions, attacks persist, communities remain isolated, and key transportation routes are still fraught with danger. For a segment of the population, these announced successes have struggled to translate into a tangible, sustained improvement in their daily lives.

Perhaps the most poignant indicator of the ongoing crisis is not merely the persistence of violence, but the profound fact that thousands of Burkinabè now believe their safety is better assured away from their homes. Each week, families abandon their villages, forsake their lands, businesses, and dwellings to seek refuge in safer zones or to cross borders into neighboring countries. No populace willingly chooses exile when their own nation offers the conditions for peaceful living.

This quiet exodus of populations represents arguably the most severe judgment on the efficacy of current security policies. When a citizen opts to become internally displaced or a refugee rather than remain in their home village, it signals a critical erosion of trust in the state’s capacity to provide protection.

Meanwhile, Ibrahim Traoré continues to champion a discourse heavily focused on national sovereignty, a departure from former international partners, and patriotic mobilization. These themes resonate with a portion of the populace. However, sovereignty cannot be merely a political slogan; it is also measured by a government’s ability to exert its authority across the entire national territory and guarantee the safety of all who reside within it.

Another striking observation is the silence of many who once vociferously criticized Blaise Compaoré. Those who vehemently denounced his mode of governance now appear considerably more discreet when evaluating the outcomes achieved under Ibrahim Traoré. This contrast fuels a perception of inconsistent standards, where some leaders are judged with far greater severity than others.

Comparing the Compaoré and Traoré periods is not an attempt to idealize the past or overlook the limitations of the former regime. It is about posing a straightforward question: what constitutes the absolute priority of a state? For many Burkinabè, the answer is unequivocal. Before speeches, before symbols, and before grand declarations of sovereignty, a government is primarily expected to demonstrate its capacity to protect its citizens.

The prosperity of a nation is not defined by slogans nor by the popularity of a leader. It is measured by the tranquility of its villages, the security of its roads, the openness of its schools, the vibrancy of its markets, and the confidence families hold in their future.

As long as Burkinabè continue to leave their country or regions in search of security elsewhere, the debate surrounding the results of Ibrahim Traoré’s administration will remain open. For history will remember deeds more than words, and actual capacity more than promises, especially when it comes to a state’s fundamental duty to offer its people the ability to live freely, with dignity, and in security.