Military rule in africa and the betrayal of civilian allies

The late January of 2026 marked the definitive end of partisan politics in Burkina Faso. On January 29th, Captain Ibrahim Traoré’s government officially dissolved all political parties, including those that had backed his September 2022 coup.

While these parties had already been suspended since Traoré took power, the junta framed the move as part of a broader state restructuring aimed at reducing social divisions.

In reality, this action eliminates the last remnants of independent civic participation and centralizes authority under Traoré. Party assets have been seized by the state.

Though the junta initially relied on enthusiastic civilian support, the decision starkly contradicts its narrative of popular mobilization and revolutionary renewal. Yet this outcome is far from unique.

Across the Sahel and beyond, military coup backers are discovering that initial enthusiasm rarely translates into lasting political influence. Coups that begin with mass support often end with military leaders sidelining or openly repressing the very groups that helped consolidate their power—a pattern that stretches back decades.

As an analyst who has studied and written about military coups for nearly a decade—particularly the recent wave of putsches in West Africa—I’ve observed this recurring trend.

Once in power, military leaders have little incentive to share authority. Civilian groups serve a critical role in the early days of a coup, providing crowds, legitimacy, and the appearance of a populist uprising. But soon, these allies become liabilities.

They have their own leaders, constituencies, and demands about the transition. They may criticize delays or mobilize supporters—precisely the kind of independence juntas fear.

Early civilian enthusiasm should not be mistaken for a lasting mandate or a guarantee of inclusive governance. The recent ban on political parties in Burkina Faso is the latest reminder: outside support may trigger or stabilize a coup, but it rarely secures enduring influence.

Why civilian backing rarely leads to lasting power

Contrary to common assumptions, military coups often garner significant civilian support. In some cases, ordinary citizens actively cheer the takeover; in others, civil society, opposition parties, and other national actors publicly endorse it.

This dynamic has been evident in recent Sahelian coups. From Mali to Niger, military interventions were widely welcomed by activists, political parties, and other domestic stakeholders. For coup leaders, such alliances provide visible legitimacy and a ready-made support base.

Yet a familiar pattern follows. As civilian groups push to maintain influence in the post-coup order, juntas systematically marginalize, sideline, or even repress these former allies.

This cycle transcends time and geography, cutting across ideological and social divides.

Take Sudan’s 1969 coup, for example. The Communist Party initially aligned with the Free Officers led by Colonel Gaafar Nimeiri, offering crucial political backing. Within seven months, however, Nimeiri began sidelining communists, removing key figures from government. By 1971, he had turned against them entirely, launching a brutal crackdown that crushed the party.

A similar fate unfolded after Egypt’s 2013 coup. The Tamarod protest movement openly supported General Abdel Fattah el-Sisi’s takeover. Yet as civic space shrank, Tamarod’s influence evaporated, along with that of other political parties.

regrets of sahelian coup supporters today

Many of the civic groups that backed recent Sahelian coups now share the same bitter experience as their predecessors elsewhere.

In Mali, the June 5 Movement–Rally of Patriotic Forces (M5-RFP), a broad coalition of opposition parties, religious leaders, and activists tied to imam Mahmoud Dicko, once hailed the army’s August 2020 intervention against President Ibrahim Boubacar Keïta. The movement hoped to shape the transition.

That expectation faded quickly. The junta excluded M5-RFP leaders from key posts in the transitional government. When Colonel Assimi Goïta launched a second coup in May 2021, consolidating military control, the movement’s influence dwindled further. What began as a tactical alliance ended in marginalization.

Guinea’s 2021 coup followed a nearly identical path. Opposition leaders initially praised General Mamady Doumbouya’s takeover, urging the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) to refrain from sanctions and legitimizing the coup as a necessary corrective.

Yet just as in Mali, the junta sidelined civilian allies, preventing meaningful representation. Within a year, party members were arrested for opposing their exclusion from the transition.

Viewed in this comparative light, Burkina Faso’s recent party dissolution fits a well-established pattern: early civilian support does not guarantee continued access or influence once military leaders have firmly entrenched their rule.