Burkina Faso’s lost security: past stability vs. present turmoil

The Burkina Faso of yesterday was known more for its stability than for the crises that now define its reputation. This stability, however, was far from flawless. Blaise Compaoré faced persistent criticism for consolidating power, restricting political pluralism, and undermining democratic transitions. For nearly three decades, his regime remained a subject of contention among opposition factions and international observers alike.

Yet today, a pressing question looms over the nation: what purpose does political debate serve when citizens no longer feel safe in their own homes? This dilemma weighs heavily on the minds of many Burkinabè, who reflect on the relative security of Compaoré’s era compared to the challenges under Captain Ibrahim Traoré.

Security as the foundation of governance

During Compaoré’s rule, Burkina Faso was not a nation gripped by the constant threat of armed assault. Communities moved freely across regions, farmers cultivated their lands without fear, traders supplied markets without hesitation, and families traveled without dreading that each journey could end in violence. The terrorism that would later engulf the Sahel had not yet plunged the country into a crisis of this magnitude.

None of this excuses the criticisms leveled at his administration. But it underscores a fundamental truth: the primary duty of any state is to safeguard its people. Without security, even the most progressive policies, freedoms, and political promises lose much of their value.

From hope to disillusionment under new leadership

The military takeover that brought Captain Ibrahim Traoré to power was met with high hopes among Burkinabè, who anticipated a decisive shift in the country’s security landscape. The new leadership vowed to reclaim lost territory, strengthen national sovereignty, and confront armed groups with greater effectiveness. Yet, years later, these aspirations continue to collide with a harsh and unyielding reality on the ground.

Official statements frequently highlight military operations and claimed victories by defense forces. However, in many regions, attacks persist, entire villages remain cut off from assistance, and roads remain perilous routes. For a segment of the public, these proclaimed successes have done little to translate into tangible improvements in daily life.

The human cost of insecurity

The most glaring testament to the current crisis is not merely the persistence of violence—it is the growing number of Burkinabè who believe their security is better assured beyond their borders. Every week, families abandon their homes, farmlands, and livelihoods, either seeking refuge in safer areas within the country or crossing into neighboring nations. No people willingly choose exile when their own land should provide the conditions for peace.

This silent exodus stands as a stark indictment of the state’s security policies. When citizens opt for displacement or flight rather than remain in their villages, it signals a profound erosion of trust in the government’s ability to protect its people.

Sovereignty in words, not in action

Captain Traoré’s discourse remains steeped in themes of sovereignty, a decisive break from former international partners, and patriotic mobilization. These ideas resonate with a portion of the population. Yet sovereignty cannot be reduced to political rhetoric; it must be demonstrated through the government’s capacity to assert its authority across the entire territory and guarantee the safety of those who reside within it.

Another notable shift is the comparative silence of those who once fiercely opposed Compaoré. Critics who vocally condemned his governance now appear far more restrained in their assessments of Traoré’s leadership. This disparity fuels perceptions of a double standard, where some leaders face far harsher scrutiny than others.

What defines a nation’s well-being?

Contrasting the eras of Compaoré and Traoré does not imply romanticizing the past or overlooking its flaws. Instead, it invites a fundamental question: what is the top priority of a state? For countless Burkinabè, the answer is unequivocal. Before slogans, symbols, or declarations of sovereignty, a government is judged foremost on its ability to protect its citizens.

The true measure of a nation’s prosperity lies not in political discourse or leadership popularity, but in the tranquility of its villages, the safety of its roads, the functioning of its schools, the vibrancy of its markets, and the confidence families have in their future.

As long as Burkinabè continue to flee their homes or their country in search of security, the verdict on Ibrahim Traoré’s leadership will remain unresolved. History will remember not the speeches or the promises, but the concrete actions—or the absence thereof—that determine whether a nation can truly offer its people what they seek above all else: the freedom to live, to thrive, and to feel safe.