There was a period when Burkina Faso was more often recognized for its stability than for its misfortunes. This era, while not without its critics – far from it – saw Blaise Compaoré accused of centralizing power, stifling political life, and limiting democratic transitions. For twenty-seven years, his contested rule was frequently denounced by segments of the opposition and the international community.
However, with the benefit of hindsight, a critical question emerges: what purpose does political debate serve when citizens can no longer live safely? This query now permeates discussions among many Burkinabè, who frequently draw comparisons between the stability of Blaise Compaoré’s time and the current situation under Captain Ibrahim Traoré.
Under Blaise Compaoré, Burkina Faso was not a country where populations lived in perpetual dread of armed assaults. Citizens moved freely between regions, farmers cultivated their lands, merchants supplied markets, and families traveled without the constant fear that each journey might culminate in tragedy. The terrorism that would later devastate the Sahel had not yet plunged the nation into a security crisis of such magnitude.
This reality does not erase the criticisms leveled against his administration. Yet, it underscores a fundamental truth: the primary responsibility of a state is to guarantee the security of its citizens. Without this foundational safety, freedoms, reforms, and political promises lose much of their inherent meaning.
Since Captain Ibrahim Traoré seized power through a military coup, Burkinabè citizens had hoped for a profound transformation on the security front. The new authorities had pledged to reclaim national territory, reinforce national sovereignty, and provide a more effective response to armed groups. However, nearly two years later, it is evident that these aspirations continue to clash with a particularly arduous reality on the ground.
Under Ibrahim Traoré’s governance, official communiqués regularly highlight military operations and successes achieved by the defense forces. Despite these announcements, attacks persist in numerous regions, localities remain isolated, and major roadways continue to be dangerous. For a segment of public opinion, these declared victories have yet to translate into a lasting improvement in the daily lives of the population.
Perhaps the most telling tragedy is not merely the persistence of violence. It lies in the fact that thousands of Burkinabè now believe their safety is better secured away from their own homes. Each week, families abandon their villages, their agricultural lands, their businesses, and their houses to relocate to safer areas or to cross borders into neighboring countries. No people willingly chooses exile when their own nation offers the conditions for peaceful living.
This silent exodus of populations constitutes arguably the most severe judgment on the efficacy of the security policies. When a citizen prefers to become internally displaced or a refugee rather than remain in their village, it signifies a profound loss of confidence in the state’s capacity to ensure their protection.
Meanwhile, Ibrahim Traoré continues to champion a discourse heavily focused on sovereignty, a break from former partner powers, and patriotic mobilization. These themes resonate with a portion of the populace. Yet, sovereignty cannot be merely a political slogan; it is also measured by a government’s ability to exercise its authority across the entire territory and to guarantee the security of those who reside there.
Another striking element is the silence of many who were once staunch critics of Blaise Compaoré. Those who vigorously denounced his mode of governance now appear considerably more discreet when evaluating the results achieved under Ibrahim Traoré. This contrast fuels a perception of selective judgment, where some leaders are assessed with far greater severity than others.
Comparing the Compaoré and Traoré periods is not an attempt to idealize the past nor to ignore the limitations of the former regime. It aims to pose a simple question: what is the absolute priority of a state? For many Burkinabè, the answer is unequivocally clear. Before speeches, before symbols, and before grand declarations of sovereignty, a government is expected to demonstrate its capacity to protect its citizens.
The well-being of a nation cannot be reduced to slogans or the popularity of a leader. It is measured by the tranquility of its villages, the safety of its roads, the opening of its schools, the functioning of its markets, and the confidence families place in their future.
As long as Burkinabè continue to leave their country or regions in search of security elsewhere, the debate over the outcomes of Ibrahim Traoré’s power will remain open. For history will remember deeds more than words, and actual capacity more than promises, in a state’s ability to offer its people what they desire above all else: to live freely, with dignity, and in security.
