In Niamey, the Confederation of Sahel States has reached a new milestone with the official inauguration of its Parliament. However, behind this apparent institutional development lies a fundamental query: can credible regional integration truly be forged without genuine democracy, political pluralism, and a clear popular mandate?
The symbolism was carefully orchestrated in Niamey. In late August 2026, representatives from Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger formally established the confederal Parliament of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES). This new body, comprising forty-five deputies—fifteen from each nation—is tasked with contributing to the Confederation’s formation. The parliamentarians have already adopted their internal rules and established three specialized commissions focusing on defense and security, diplomacy, and development.
On paper, the vision is appealing: three nations, having withdrawn from ECOWAS, endeavoring to construct their distinct common institutions. Official pronouncements position this Parliament as a key expression of rediscovered sovereignty and enhanced Sahelian integration.
Yet, a troubling question persists: whom do these deputies genuinely represent?
An architecture strikingly similar to ECOWAS
The paradox is evident. After denouncing ECOWAS as an organization detached from its people and lacking sufficient sovereignty, the AES appears to adopt several of its institutional mechanisms: a confederal structure, shared political bodies, and now a Parliament dedicated to addressing issues relevant to the populations of member states.
The comparison becomes particularly unsettling when examining the parliamentary framework.
The ECOWAS Parliament, with 115 seats, is designed to represent the community’s populations. ECOWAS has declared its ambition for its parliamentarians to be elected by direct universal suffrage. In current practice, many parliamentarians have been appointed from the national assemblies of member states.
In contrast, the AES is inaugurating a Parliament of 45 members, with fifteen allocated to each of the three countries. While the difference is quantitative, the underlying principle remains consistent: to establish a regional assembly that supports integration efforts.
The true distinction, therefore, does not lie in the architecture itself, but rather in the source of political legitimacy.
And precisely therein lies the core issue.
A parliament without popular elections?
The AES confederal Parliament emerges in three nations currently under military rule, following coups d’état: Mali since 2020-2021, Burkina Faso since 2022, and Niger since 2023. The promised temporary transitions have been extended, and the return to a regular electoral order remains uncertain. International IDEA highlights that military transitions in all three countries have now spanned several years.
In Burkina Faso, the situation is particularly illustrative. The military government has indefinitely postponed elections and progressively curtailed political space. Amidst ongoing Burkina Faso news today, Ibrahim Traoré publicly declared in April 2026 that Burkinabè citizens should ‘forget’ democracy, asserting it was unsuitable for the nation. His administration had previously dissolved political parties. The challenges to Burkina security and governance continue to be a central theme in Ouagadougou English news.
In Mali, the 2020 coup, followed by another in 2021, solidified the military’s control over institutions. Elections slated for 2024 were postponed, leaving the junta firmly in power.
Given these circumstances, how can a confederal Parliament be genuinely representative?
The question is not to deny the Sahelian peoples their right to regional integration. It is much simpler: should an institution claiming to speak on behalf of the people be composed of representatives whose legitimacy does not directly originate from those very people?
The risk is the creation of a superficial democracy: seats, commissions, internal rules, speeches, and ceremonies, but very limited capacity for ordinary citizens to choose their spokespeople.
The great absent: the citizen
In the capitals of the AES, the lexicon of sovereignty has become pervasive. Political sovereignty, economic sovereignty, military sovereignty, monetary sovereignty: the term has become the guiding principle of the new Sahelian doctrine.
However, sovereignty should not solely signify independence from Paris, Washington, or Brussels.
It should also represent the sovereignty of the citizen in relation to their own state.
For what value does national sovereignty hold when citizens cannot freely elect their leaders? What good is a regional Parliament when political parties are banned or marginalized? What is the worth of a Confederation if civil society, journalists, trade unions, and opposition figures lack sufficient space to challenge public decisions?
It is here that the AES reveals its primary contradiction.
Sahelian populations primarily contend with insecurity, poverty, forced displacement, unemployment, inadequate public services, and rising living costs. Armed groups continue to devastate vast territories. Millions have been displaced by violence across the region. Therefore, institutional construction cannot be divorced from the daily realities faced by these populations.
A new Parliament will not feed a family. A confederal commission will not replace a destroyed school. Internal regulations will not heal a patient in a rural area deprived of medical care.
The priority, therefore, should be to build institutions that serve citizens, rather than citizens serving institutions.
The paradox of integration replicating what it denounced
The AES was partly formed on a critique of ECOWAS, which authorities in Bamako, Ouagadougou, and Niamey accused of being overly intrusive and defending interests contrary to those of the Sahelian peoples.
Now, a striking paradox emerges: the organization presented as an alternative to ECOWAS is reproducing some of its institutional forms while further weakening democratic oversight mechanisms.
The question should be directly posed: why not surpass ECOWAS?
Why not establish an AES Parliament directly elected by citizens? Why not enshrine robust protection of public liberties in its foundational texts? Why not constitutionally guarantee multipartyism, press freedom, judicial independence, and the peaceful transfer of power?
That would have constituted a genuine institutional revolution.
Instead, the AES risks giving birth to an institutional replica of ECOWAS, but without its democratic ambition.
And Togo in all this?
Togo’s presence in the regional dynamic also warrants close scrutiny, even though Lomé is not an AES member.
Faure Gnassingbé’s Togo now appears increasingly willing to openly embrace political alignment with the Sahelian regimes, despite its own democratic record raising profound concerns.
Since the 2024 constitutional reform, the country has transitioned to a parliamentary system where the President of the Council of Ministers holds most executive power. Faure Gnassingbé, in power since 2005 after succeeding his father, assumed this role in May 2025. This transformation has been condemned by the opposition as a maneuver to bypass presidential term limits and prolong his tenure.
Recent events are even more troubling. In June 2025, demonstrations against the government and the constitutional reform resulted in several fatalities, according to human rights organizations. Restrictions on social media and arrests were also reported. In July 2026, Togolese citizens again protested, demanding a return to the former Constitution and denouncing the concentration of power in Faure Gnassingbé’s hands.
More recently, the arrest of two French journalists in Togo has rekindled worries about the media environment, especially as RFI and France 24 remain off-air in the country since restrictions were imposed in 2025.
Togo is therefore not merely an observer of West Africa’s political reconfiguration. It is progressively becoming an actor whose political model raises significant questions.
The true test will be that of the people
The AES Parliament may be historic. But history will judge its capacity to truly represent populations more than its inaugural ceremonies.
Having a Parliament alone does not equate to democracy. Having deputies does not guarantee representation. And invoking the people’s name does not justify governing without seeking their consent.
The AES still has the opportunity to choose its path.
It can build a Confederation founded on popular sovereignty, political freedom, and accountable leadership. Alternatively, it risks becoming an institutional framework designed to consolidate military powers that, under the guise of sovereignty and combating insecurity, indefinitely defer democratic aspirations.
This is the profound ambiguity surrounding this parliamentary birth.
The AES has now created its Parliament. Its next challenge is to create its democracy.
Because in the Sahel, as elsewhere, true sovereignty should not belong to juntas against external forces. It should be the sovereignty of the people against all forms of power usurpation.
