In the heart of the Sahel, a subtle but insidious campaign is unfolding. Burkinabé journalists, academics, and activists are finding themselves courted by Western powers—Paris and Washington chief among them—with offers of respect, funding, and global platforms. The target? Burkina Faso’s embattled leader, Ibrahim Traoré, whose push for sovereignty has rattled the old guard of neocolonial influence. But as Nigerian investigative journalist David Hundeyin warns, those who lend their voices to this orchestrated chorus may find themselves discarded once the music stops.
Hundeyin, a sharp-eyed observer of West African politics, recently shared a stark warning with Burkinabé stakeholders: “There is nothing special about you.” His words, drawn from a conversation with a Sahel-based contact, cut through the flattery being dangled before Burkina Faso’s intellectual elite. The invitations to critique Traoré, cloaked in promises of Chevening scholarships, speaking gigs in Taipei, or even Canadian passports, are not gestures of genuine respect. They are, Hundeyin argues, a recycled playbook of manipulation—one that has left nations like Nigeria scarred and cautionary tales in its wake.
The Nigerian Precedent: A Cautionary Tale
To understand the stakes, rewind to Nigeria between 2011 and 2015. During this period, then-President Goodluck Jonathan oversaw a nation that briefly claimed the title of Africa’s largest economy and the world’s third-fastest-growing. Yet, a vocal cadre of critics—spanning Twitter influencers to civil society leaders—was elevated by Western actors to paint Jonathan as a despot. “Every squirrel, antelope, Aisha, Dipo, and Japheth” who criticized him, Hundeyin recalls, was “carried aloft” with accolades, fellowships, and funding. The message was clear: “Jonathan Must Go” was a ticket to favor.
The result? A regime change that saw Nigeria’s economy nosedive, shrinking by over 60% in a decade while other African nations grew. Nigerians, once proud of their economic ascent, began fleeing to unlikely destinations—Burkina Faso, Mali, and even Niger, once dubbed the world’s poorest country. The loudest voices of the anti-Jonathan campaign, meanwhile, faded into obscurity. A lucky few secured their Western-sponsored unicorns—scholarships, passports, or gigs—but most were left chasing scraps, their lives worse off than before. “They’re in their 40s and 50s now,” Hundeyin notes, “still hunting for $1,000 here, $2,500 there.”
Burkina Faso in the Crosshairs
Fast-forward to 2025, and Burkina Faso is the new stage for this familiar drama. Ibrahim Traoré, the young military leader who ousted a French-aligned regime in 2022, has become a lightning rod. His moves to reduce France’s grip—expelling French troops, aligning with Russia, and rallying Burkinabés around national pride—have made him a target. Western capitals, Hundeyin alleges, are now engineering an “artificial anti-Traoré bandwagon,” recruiting local voices to amplify dissent.
The tactic is as old as colonialism itself: inflate egos, dangle rewards, and let local proxies do the dirty work. “The respect and reverence they’re treating you with,” Hundeyin warns, “is the same affected ‘respect’ they’ve bamboozled us with for 500 years.” For Burkinabés, the flattery is seductive—a chance to escape obscurity, secure funding, or gain international clout. But Hundeyin urges them to pause and question: Why now? Why Traoré?
The Silence of the Compaoré Era
The answer lies in a glaring double standard. During Blaise Compaoré’s 27-year rule, Burkina Faso languished as one of the world’s poorest nations. His regime’s brutality—shooting protesters in the streets, stifling dissent—drew little outcry from the same Western actors now decrying Traoré’s governance. “Where were all these bleeding-heart white people then?” Hundeyin asks pointedly. Their sudden concern, he argues, is not about human rights or democracy but about losing a foothold in a region increasingly defiant of Western dominance.
Traoré’s Burkina Faso, for all its challenges, represents a break from the past. His leadership, while imperfect, has galvanized a sense of agency in a nation long treated as a pawn. But agency comes at a cost. The Sahel’s shifting alliances—toward Russia, China, or regional solidarity—threaten the old order, prompting a scramble to reclaim influence through narrative control.
The Cost of Complicity
For Burkinabé stakeholders, the choice is stark. Aligning with foreign agendas may bring short-term gains—a fellowship here, a byline there—but the long-term cost could be catastrophic. Nigeria’s descent offers a grim preview: a nation destabilized, its people scattered, and its once-vocal champions reduced to footnotes. “The vast majority,” Hundeyin says of Nigeria’s co-opted voices, “got discarded like a used pure water bag.” Burkinabés risk the same fate, their credibility, and the country’s future sacrificed for fleeting validation.
Hundeyin’s advice is simple but profound: resist the “thirst for white people’s validation and money.” Instead, Burkinabé intellectuals and activists must anchor their work in their nation’s interests. This means questioning the motives behind every invitation, scrutinizing the timing of foreign concerns, and building independent platforms to amplify authentic voices. The Sahel’s future, he insists, depends on rejecting the puppet strings of external powers.
A Call to Sovereignty
As Burkina Faso navigates its precarious path, the stakes extend beyond its borders. The Sahel is a battleground for the soul of African agency, where local voices can either amplify their people’s aspirations or echo the scripts of foreign capitals. Hundeyin’s warning is a clarion call—not just for Burkinabés but for all Africans courted by the siren song of Western approval. “What is this really about?” he asks. The answer lies in the courage to choose sovereignty over subservience, truth over temptation, and a future shaped by Africans, for Africans.
Disclaimer: This feature draws on David Hundeyin’s publicly expressed views and does not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Stakeholders Magazine. Readers are encouraged to verify claims independently and engage with diverse perspectives.
