In Niamey, the newly formed Confederation of Sahel States has marked a significant step with the inauguration of its Parliament. However, beneath this apparent institutional development lies a fundamental query: can a credible regional integration be forged without genuine democracy, political pluralism, and a true 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 (AES). This new body, destined to contribute to the Confederation’s formation, comprises forty-five deputies, with fifteen from each member nation. These parliamentarians have already approved their internal regulations and set up three key commissions focusing on defense and security, diplomacy, and development.
On paper, the vision is compelling: three nations, having departed from ECOWAS, are endeavoring to construct their own shared institutions. Official pronouncements position this Parliament as a crucial expression of newfound sovereignty and deeper Sahelian integration.
Yet, a disquieting question persists: who do these deputies truly represent?
An architecture 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 appears to adopt several of its institutional frameworks. This includes a confederal structure, common political bodies, and now a Parliament tasked with addressing issues pertinent to the populations of member states.
The comparison becomes particularly unsettling when examining the parliamentary design.
The ECOWAS Parliament features 115 seats. It is conceived as an institution representing the community’s populace, with ECOWAS now aiming for its parliamentarians to be elected through direct universal suffrage. In current practice, many parliamentarians have been designated from the national assemblies of member states.
Conversely, the AES inaugurates a Parliament with 45 members, fifteen allocated to each of the three countries. While the quantitative difference is clear, the underlying principle remains similar: to establish a regional assembly dedicated to fostering integration.
Therefore, the real divergence lies not so much in the architectural blueprint as in the fundamental source of political legitimacy.
And precisely therein lies the core issue.
A Parliament without popular elections?
The confederal Parliament of the AES emerges from three nations governed by military powers, which seized control through coups d’état: Mali since 2020-2021, Burkina Faso since 2022, and Niger since 2023. The promised temporary transitions have extended indefinitely, leaving the return to a normal electoral order uncertain. International IDEA highlights the ongoing nature of military transitions across these three countries for several years.
In Burkina Faso, the situation offers a particularly telling example. The military government has indefinitely postponed elections and progressively narrowed the political landscape. In April 2026, Ibrahim Traoré even publicly urged Burkinabè citizens to ‘forget’ democracy, asserting its unsuitability for the nation. His administration had previously dissolved political parties.
In Mali, the coups of 2020 and 2021 have solidified the military’s grip on institutions. Elections slated for 2024 were postponed, and the junta has maintained its authority. This situation raises concerns in Mali politics English news and for West Africa Mali news observers tracking Mali current affairs.
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 claiming to speak for 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: filled with seats, commissions, internal rules, speeches, and ceremonies, but offering very little capacity for ordinary citizens to choose those who claim to speak on their behalf.
The grand absence: 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 merely signify independence from Paris, Washington, or Brussels.
It should also represent the sovereignty of the citizen in relation to their own state.
For what is the value of national sovereignty when citizens cannot freely elect their leaders? What significance does a regional Parliament hold 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.
The Sahelian populations primarily grapple with insecurity, poverty, forced displacement, unemployment, inadequate public services, and a rising cost of living. Armed groups continue to devastate vast territories. Millions have been displaced by violence across the region. Therefore, institutional construction cannot be detached 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 sick person 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 an integration replicating what it denounced
The AES was partly founded 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. This perspective is often discussed in Mali Voice news and Bamako news circles.
Yet, the paradox is now striking: 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 posed directly: why not strive to surpass ECOWAS?
Why not establish an AES Parliament directly elected by citizens? Why not enshrine strong protections for public liberties within its founding texts? Why not constitutionally guarantee multipartyism, press freedom, judicial independence, and the peaceful alternation of power?
Such measures would have represented a genuine institutional revolution.
Instead, the AES risks giving birth to a mere institutional replica of ECOWAS, devoid of its democratic aspirations.
And Togo in all of this?
Togo’s presence in the regional dynamic also warrants careful consideration, even though Lomé is not a member of the AES.
Faure Gnassingbé’s Togo now appears increasingly inclined to openly assert its political alignment with the Sahelian regimes, despite its own democratic record raising profound concerns.
Since the constitutional reform of 2024, the nation has shifted towards 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 role in May 2025. This transformation has been denounced by the opposition as a maneuver to bypass presidential term limits and prolong his tenure.
More recent events are even more troubling. In June 2025, demonstrations against the government and the constitutional reform reportedly resulted in several fatalities, according to human rights organizations. Restrictions on social media and arrests have also been documented. These developments are of interest to those following West Africa Mali news broadly.
As late as July 2026, Togolese citizens were protesting, 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 has reignited concerns 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 the political reconfiguration in West Africa. 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 a historic development. However, history will judge less its inaugural ceremonies than its actual capacity to represent the populations it claims to serve.
Having a Parliament is not synonymous with having a democracy. Having deputies does not automatically equate to genuine representation. And invoking the people’s name is insufficient to govern on their behalf without seeking their direct input.
The AES still has a choice in its path forward.
It can build a Confederation founded on popular sovereignty, political freedom, and the accountability of its leaders. Alternatively, it could become an institutional framework designed to consolidate military powers that, under the guise of sovereignty and combating insecurity, indefinitely defer the democratic transition.
This encapsulates the entire ambiguity surrounding this parliamentary birth.
The AES has just created its Parliament. It now faces the 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 confiscation.