A Coup in the Mirror: Manufactured Threats and Managed Narratives

Burkina Faso’s ruling military junta, led by Captain Ibrahim Traore, has once again taken center stage with claims that it has successfully dismantled a significant plot against the state. According to the junta, the plan involved a coordinated assault on the presidential palace by a network of dissident soldiers allegedly recruited by foreign-based enemies. Yet, as the dust settles, many are beginning to question the authenticity of these allegations. Far from an act of national defense, critics argue that the junta is using the specter of conspiracy to solidify its authority and suppress the growing wave of internal dissatisfaction. In a country already teetering on the edge of collapse, the constant invocation of threats—real or imagined—has become an indispensable tool for the regime to justify its heavy-handed rule.

Blame Games and Convenient Enemies

At the heart of this alleged rebellion are two familiar names: Major Joanny Compaore and Lieutenant Abdramane Barry, former military officers now living in exile in Ivory Coast. The junta has branded them as the masterminds of this aborted insurrection, accusing them of coordinating a strike to be carried out by handpicked soldiers inside Burkina Faso. This narrative has not only escalated tensions between Ouagadougou and Abidjan but has also revived a long-standing narrative of betrayal and outside interference. However, what is conspicuously absent is any tangible proof—no intercepted communications, no seized weapons caches, no independent verification. Instead, we are left with sweeping proclamations and vague details that serve a singular purpose: to convince a restless population that the junta remains indispensable. By directing attention outward and blaming a neighboring country, the regime creates a compelling enemy to rally the nation while distracting from its own faltering performance.

Arrests and Repression: The Real Operation

The supposed uncovering of this plot conveniently coincided with a string of arrests targeting military personnel, including a number of high-ranking officers. Officially, these individuals are accused of participating in an effort to destabilize the government. Unofficially, many believe the arrests are part of a broader campaign to neutralize potential rivals and consolidate internal control. This is not the first time the junta has taken such measures—over the past year, numerous activists, journalists, and opposition voices have been detained under loosely defined security laws. What is striking about this latest wave, however, is the way it has been wrapped in the language of patriotism and national defense. Rather than appearing as a purge, it is framed as a heroic act of protection. The line between loyalty and treason has never been thinner, and in such an atmosphere, even silence can be construed as sedition.

Ivory Coast as a Scapegoat: Old Fears, New Frictions

Burkina Faso's friction with Ivory Coast is neither sudden nor surprising. Captain Traore and his advisors have previously suggested that Abidjan harbors rebels, insurgents, and political malcontents seeking to undermine their authority. This latest accusation has only deepened the mistrust between the two neighbors. However, to many observers, the choice of Ivory Coast as the alleged origin of the plot appears less a revelation than a strategic scapegoating. The junta, facing internal dissent and failing to stem the tide of extremist violence, benefits enormously from redirecting blame outward. Ivory Coast, a relatively stable and more diplomatically connected nation, becomes a convenient antagonist in the narrative of national struggle. Whether or not the accused officers have any real involvement is immaterial to the story being told within Burkina Faso—it is their symbolic value that matters most to a government that thrives on siege mentality.

The Broader Picture: Militarization of Fear

What is happening in Burkina Faso cannot be seen in isolation. Across the Sahel region, military-led governments are embracing a shared playbook: rule by fear, sustained by conspiracy, and validated by claims of unending emergency. In Mali and Niger, similar stories are unfolding—where juntas justify their prolonged reigns with promises of security while stifling civil liberties and political discourse. The shared narrative is chillingly consistent: foreign plots, domestic traitors, and a government that alone can prevent collapse. This militarization of fear not only destabilizes national politics but also fractures regional cooperation. Civil societies, already battered by conflict and poverty, are now also contending with repressive regimes that use the language of defense to disguise their attacks on democracy.

International Response: Passive or Complicit?

Despite the growing authoritarianism, the international community’s response has remained tepid at best. Some nations continue to offer financial and logistical aid, often under the guise of counterterrorism assistance. Yet, much of this aid ends up reinforcing the very structures that perpetuate instability. Conditions for democracy, human rights, and accountability are often sidelined in favor of short-term strategic interests. The result is a dangerous precedent where military leaders feel emboldened to act with impunity. If foreign partners fail to demand transparency and reform, they risk becoming complicit in the erosion of democratic norms across West Africa. It is not enough to condemn after the fact—support must be tied to clear, enforceable benchmarks that protect civil space and encourage a genuine transition back to civilian governance.

Looking Ahead: Fragile Futures and Fading Hope

Burkina Faso stands at a dangerous crossroads. While the junta’s claims may temporarily stave off criticism and create the illusion of control, they do little to address the nation’s deep-rooted challenges. Jihadist insurgencies continue to claim territory and lives, economic activity is paralyzed in vast regions, and millions live under the constant threat of violence. The population’s patience is wearing thin, and empty promises are no longer enough to pacify a nation in distress. If the junta continues to rely on the illusion of plots and foreign enemies to maintain its grip, it may one day find itself confronting a rebellion not born in exile but forged from the frustrations of its own people. In the end, the most dangerous uprising might not be the one they claim to have stopped—but the one they are unknowingly creating.