In a move that would make even the most jaded observer of imperial decline sit up, Burkina Faso has severed all diplomatic and military ties with France. This is not merely a geopolitical inconvenience. This is a full-throated rejection of the post-colonial order, a slap in the face to the Élysée Palace, and a signal that the Sahel is no longer content to be the West’s backyard powder keg.
Let us not mince words. France has been bleeding influence in West Africa for years. Mali kicked them out. Niger followed suit. Now Burkina Faso, under the junta of Captain Ibrahim Traoré, has decided that enough is enough. The pretext is French support for terrorist groups—a claim that may or may not be true, but which resonates deeply in a region still smarting from decades of French military interventions that never quite solved the jihadist problem.
What we are witnessing is the unraveling of the Françafrique system. For generations, France treated its former colonies as sources of uranium, cotton, and cheap labour, while installing pliant dictators and propping up corrupt regimes. The Sahel now looks elsewhere: to Russia, to Turkey, to China. The Wagner Group’s shadow looms large. But let us not pretend this is some simple Cold War redux. This is a genuine, organic revolt against a failed model of development. The Sahel’s young population, frustrated by poverty and insecurity, sees the French departure not as a loss but as an opportunity for self-determination.
Of course, the West will wring its hands. Human rights, they will say. Democracy, they will intone. But these are the empty slogans of a decadent civilisation that has lost the will to fight for its values. France itself is a shell of its former glory, a nation so consumed by internal divisions and bureaucratic torpor that it can no longer project power effectively. The Macronian era ends not with a bang but with a whimper, as the tricolour is lowered in Ouagadougou.
What comes next? Chaos, almost certainly. The Sahel is a belt of failed states, and Burkina Faso is no exception. The junta’s legitimacy is paper-thin. The jihadists are still there. But national pride is a potent force, and it may yet forge something new. Or it may simply hasten the region’s collapse into a Somalia-like abyss. The West can only watch, a spectator in the decline of its own influence.
This is the lesson of history. Empires do not last. And when they fall, those who once knelt stand up, often with rage in their hearts. Burkina Faso’s decision is a warning shot for every Western power that still thinks it can control the global periphery through aid, arms, and arrogance. The natives are restless, and they have found new patrons.
I cannot pretend to mourn the passing of French primacy. It was built on exploitation and maintained by force. But I worry for the people of the Sahel. For they have traded one master for another, or perhaps no master at all. And that, in this anarchic world, is the most dangerous thing of all.
Arthur Penhaligon
