Sahel alliance parliament: a democratic void amidst military governance

In Niamey, the newly formed Alliance of Sahel States (AES) has taken a significant institutional step with the inauguration of its Parliament. Yet, beneath this seemingly structured development lies a fundamental question for African politics: can credible regional integration truly flourish without robust democracy, genuine political pluralism, and a clear popular mandate?

The symbolism in Niamey was carefully orchestrated. In late August 2026, representatives from Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger officially established the confederal Parliament of the Alliance of Sahel States. This new body comprises forty-five deputies, with fifteen from each member nation, tasked with contributing to the confederation’s formation. These parliamentarians have already adopted their internal rules and established three dedicated commissions focusing on defense and security, diplomacy, and development.

On paper, the vision appears compelling: three nations, having withdrawn from ECOWAS, are endeavoring to forge their own shared institutions. Official statements declare that this Parliament is intended to embody their rediscovered sovereignty and reinforce Sahelian integration.

However, a critical question arises: whom do these deputies genuinely represent?

An institutional design strikingly similar to ECOWAS

The inherent paradox is striking. After condemning ECOWAS as an organization detached from its people and lacking sufficient sovereignty, the AES has paradoxically adopted many of its institutional mechanisms. This includes a confederal structure, common political bodies, and now a Parliament designed to address issues relevant to the populations of member states.

The comparison becomes particularly unsettling when examining the parliamentary structure itself.

The ECOWAS Parliament, for instance, has 115 seats. It is conceived as an institution representing the community’s populations, with ECOWAS now aiming for its parliamentarians to be elected by direct universal suffrage. Currently, many of its members are designated from the national assemblies of member states.

In contrast, the AES is inaugurating a Parliament with 45 members, fifteen for each of the three countries. While the quantitative difference is clear, the underlying principle remains similar: to create a regional assembly dedicated to fostering integration. Therefore, the true divergence lies not so much in the architectural design but in the fundamental source of political legitimacy.

And this is precisely where the core issue lies.

A parliament without popular elections?

The confederal Parliament of the AES emerges within three nations currently governed by military powers, which came to authority through coups: Mali since 2020-2021, Burkina Faso since 2022, and Niger since 2023. The promised temporary transitions have extended indefinitely, and the prospect of a return to normal electoral order remains uncertain. International IDEA has highlighted the prolonged nature of military transitions across these three countries, raising serious concerns about governance Africa.

The situation in Burkina Faso is particularly telling. The military government has indefinitely postponed elections and progressively curtailed political space. In April 2026, Ibrahim Traoré publicly declared that Burkinabè citizens should "forget" democracy, asserting its unsuitability for the nation. His administration had previously dissolved political parties.

In Mali, the 2020 coup, followed by another in 2021, solidified the army’s control over institutions. Elections slated for 2024 were postponed, leaving the junta firmly in command.

Under such circumstances, how can a truly representative confederal Parliament be constructed?

The question is not to deny the Sahelian peoples their right to regional integration. It is far simpler: should an institution that claims to speak on behalf of its citizens be composed of representatives whose legitimacy does not directly stem from those very citizens?

The risk is the creation of a superficial democracy: seats, commissions, internal regulations, speeches, and ceremonies, but with minimal capacity for ordinary citizens to choose their representatives.

The great absentee: the citizen

In the capitals of the AES, the language 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 merely signify independence from Paris, Washington, or Brussels.

It must also signify 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 adequate space to challenge public decisions? This is where the AES reveals its primary contradiction, impacting society Africa.

Sahelian populations primarily contend with insecurity, poverty, forced displacement, unemployment, inadequate public services, and a rising cost of living. Armed groups continue to devastate vast territories, displacing millions across the region. Therefore, institutional construction cannot be divorced from the daily realities of 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 sick person in a rural area devoid of medical care.

The priority, therefore, should be to build institutions that serve citizens, rather than citizens serving institutions.

The paradox of integration mimicking its critiques

The AES was partly forged from a critique of ECOWAS, which authorities in Bamako, Ouagadougou, and Niamey accused of being overly intrusive and promoting interests contrary to those of the Sahelian peoples. Yet, the paradox is now striking: the organization presented as an alternative to ECOWAS is replicating some of its institutional forms while further weakening democratic oversight mechanisms.

The question should be posed unequivocally: why not surpass ECOWAS?

Why not establish an AES Parliament directly elected by citizens? Why not enshrine robust protection for public freedoms in its foundational texts? Why not constitutionally guarantee multipartyism, press freedom, judicial independence, and the peaceful alternation of power?

Such measures would constitute a genuine institutional revolution.

Instead, the AES risks giving birth to a mere institutional replica of ECOWAS, but without its democratic ambition.

And Togo in all this?

Togo’s presence in the regional dynamic also warrants close attention, even though Lomé is not an AES member. Faure Gnassingbé’s Togo appears to be increasingly aligning itself politically with the Sahelian regimes, despite its own democratic record raising profound concerns.

Since the constitutional reform of 2024, the country has transitioned to a parliamentary system where the President of the Council of Ministers holds most executive power. Faure Gnassingbé, who has been in power since 2005 after succeeding his father, assumed this new role in May 2025. This transformation was denounced by the opposition as a means 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 reportedly resulted in several deaths, according to human rights organizations. Restrictions on social media and arrests were also documented. As recently as July 2026, Togolese citizens protested, demanding a return to the former Constitution and decrying the concentration of power in Faure Gnassingbé’s hands.

More recently, the arrest of two French journalists in Togo reignited worries about the media environment, particularly as RFI and France 24 remain off-air in the country due to restrictions imposed in 2025, highlighting challenges for independent African journalism. Togo is, therefore, not merely an observer of West African political reconfiguration; it is progressively becoming an actor whose political model raises significant questions.

The true test will be the people

The AES Parliament may be a historical milestone. However, history will judge its ability to genuinely represent the populations, rather than merely its inaugural ceremonies. It takes more than a parliament to establish a democracy. It takes more than deputies to ensure representation. And it takes more than invoking the people’s name to govern without seeking their consent.

The AES still has a choice regarding its future path. It can construct 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 postpone democratic progress.

This encapsulates the profound ambiguity surrounding this parliamentary birth.

The AES has created its Parliament. It now faces the crucial task of creating its democracy. For in the Sahel, as elsewhere, true sovereignty should not be that of juntas against external forces. It should be the sovereignty of the people against all forms of power usurpation.