The AES parliament: a democratic dilemma in the Sahel

In Niamey, the newly formed Confederation of Sahel States has taken a significant step with the inauguration of its Parliament. However, beneath this apparent institutional construction lies a fundamental question: can credible regional integration truly be forged without genuine democracy, 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 (AES). This nascent institution, comprising forty-five deputies – fifteen from each member nation – is tasked with contributing to the Confederation’s development. These parliamentarians have already ratified their internal rules and formed three key commissions focusing on defense and security, diplomacy, and development.

On the surface, the vision is compelling: three nations, having departed ECOWAS, endeavoring to construct their distinct common institutions. Official pronouncements position the Parliament as a crucial embodiment of rediscovered sovereignty and enhanced Sahelian integration.

Yet, an unsettling query persists: whom do these deputies genuinely represent?

An architecture strikingly similar to ECOWAS

The inherent paradox is striking. After condemning ECOWAS as an organization detached from its populace and lacking sufficient sovereignty, the AES appears to adopt several of its institutional mechanisms: a confederal structure, shared political bodies, and now a Parliament dedicated to addressing issues pertinent to the member states’ populations.

The comparison becomes particularly disquieting when examining the parliamentary design.

The ECOWAS Parliament, with its 115 seats, is conceived as an institution representing the community’s people, and ECOWAS has declared its ambition for its parliamentarians to be directly elected by universal suffrage. Currently, many of its members are designated from the national assemblies of member states.

The AES, conversely, inaugurates a Parliament of 45 members, with an allocation of fifteen for each of the three countries. While quantitative differences exist, the underlying principle remains analogous: to establish a regional assembly intended to foster integration.

Thus, the true divergence does not lie in the architectural framework, but rather in the very source of political legitimacy.

And it is precisely here that the core issue resides.

A parliament without popular elections?

The AES Confederal Parliament emerges within three nations currently governed by military powers, which came to prominence through coups d’état: Mali since 2020-2021, Burkina Faso since 2022, and Niger since 2023. The promised temporary transitions have extended indefinitely, casting uncertainty over any swift return to normal electoral order. International IDEA highlights that military transitions across these three countries have persisted for several years, creating a complex landscape for Sahel politics today.

In Burkina Faso, the situation offers a particularly revealing insight. The military authorities have indefinitely postponed elections and progressively curtailed political space. By April 2026, Ibrahim Traoré publicly declared that Burkinabè citizens should ‘forget’ democracy, contending it was ill-suited for the nation. His government had previously dissolved political parties.

In Mali, the 2020 coup, followed by another in 2021, solidified the army’s control over state institutions. Elections scheduled for 2024 were postponed, with the junta maintaining its grip on power. This ongoing situation is a key point in Mali Niger Burkina news English coverage.

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

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

The inherent risk is the creation of a superficial democracy: filled with seats, commissions, internal rules, speeches, and ceremonies, but offering very limited capacity for ordinary citizens to choose those who purport to speak in their name.

The great absentee: the citizen

Across 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. This narrative often features prominently in Sahel Express news.

However, sovereignty should not exclusively signify independence from Paris, Washington, or Brussels.

It must also embody 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 good is a regional Parliament when political parties are banned or marginalized? What significance does a Confederation hold if civil society, journalists, trade unions, and opposition figures lack sufficient space to challenge public decisions? These are critical aspects for West Africa Sahel stability.

It is precisely here that the AES reveals its primary contradiction.

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. Millions have been displaced by violence across the region, a constant feature in Sahel breaking news. Institutional construction, therefore, 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 rules 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 that reproduces 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 Sahelian peoples.

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 control 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 liberties within its foundational texts? Why not constitutionally guarantee multiparty systems, press freedom, judicial independence, and the peaceful transfer of power?

Such measures would have constituted a genuine institutional revolution.

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

And Togo in all of this?

The presence of Togo in the regional equation also warrants careful consideration, even though Lomé is not a member of the AES.

Faure Gnassingbé’s Togo now appears increasingly inclined to assert political proximity with the Sahelian regimes, even as its own democratic record raises 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 the majority of 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 circumvent 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 resulted in several fatalities, according to human rights organizations. Restrictions on social media and arrests were also reported.

As late as July 2026, Togolese citizens were still protesting, demanding a return to the former Constitution and denouncing the concentration of power in Faure Gnassingbé’s hands.

Most recently, the arrest of two French journalists in Togo has rekindled anxieties about the media environment, particularly 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 West Africa’s political reconfiguration. It is progressively becoming an actor whose political model is raising significant questions.

The true test will be that of the people

The AES Parliament may indeed be a historic development. However, history will judge less its inaugural ceremonies than its actual capacity to genuinely represent its populations.

Having a Parliament is not sufficient for democracy. Having deputies is not enough for representation. And invoking the people’s name is insufficient to govern on their behalf without seeking their opinion.

The AES still has the choice of its path.

It can construct a Confederation founded on popular sovereignty, political freedom, and accountability of its leaders. Alternatively, it risks becoming an institutional framework designed to consolidate military powers which, under the guise of sovereignty and the fight against insecurity, indefinitely postpone democratic deadlines.

This encapsulates the profound ambiguity surrounding this parliamentary birth.

The AES has just established its Parliament. It now remains for it to forge 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.