Power, sovereignty, and the Sahel (Part 1): The emerging new geometry
Two years ago, when Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso announced their withdrawal from ECOWAS and the formation of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), the decision reverberated far beyond the institutional corridors of West African diplomacy. It marked the crystallisation of a new political axis — one forged in defiance of regional orthodoxy and openly sceptical of the post-colonial order that has framed West African cooperation for nearly half a century. What began as a defensive reaction to sanctions against military juntas has since evolved into a declaration of intent: a bid to reconstruct the meaning of sovereignty, legitimacy, and independence on Sahelian terms.
The AES emerged from the crisis, but its endurance is anchored in conviction. Its founding members present themselves not as renegades but as reformers, confronting what they view as a regional order compromised by dependency and Western tutelage. In their rhetoric, ECOWAS is no longer the custodian of integration but the enforcer of an external agenda — an institution whose insistence on procedural democracy has too often ignored the lived insecurities of its citizens. The AES, by contrast, defines legitimacy not through ballots or constitutions but through control — of land, of resources, and of security. This inversion of values, while troubling to some, speaks powerfully to publics fatigued by years of state fragility and unfulfilled democratic promise.
“The bloc’s messaging fuses populist defiance with post-colonial reclamation, presenting sovereignty as both a shield and a weapon: a shield against interference and a weapon to renegotiate power relations.”
At its heart, the AES is not a mere coalition of juntas, nor a fleeting alliance of expediency. It is an articulation of political frustration across the Sahel — a revolt against a system that has too often preached sovereignty while practising dependence. The bloc’s messaging fuses populist defiance with post-colonial reclamation, presenting sovereignty as both a shield and a weapon: a shield against interference and a weapon to renegotiate power relations. It is a language that travels easily in a region where insecurity has become the backdrop of daily life and where foreign interventions have promised stability but delivered neither peace nor prosperity.
The symbolism of the AES has proved potent. In Bamako, Ouagadougou, and Niamey, the rhetoric of “taking back control” resonates with citizens who perceive external actors as complicit in the failures of their states. France, once a central military ally, has become the primary target of resentment. Its troops have been expelled, its bases dismantled, and its influence publicly repudiated. In their place, Russian operatives have appeared — a visual representation of a shifting global alignment. Mining contracts are being rewritten to favour national control, often with populist overtones that blend economic nationalism with anti-Western sentiment. The language of governance has changed: technocratic optimism has given way to the vocabulary of pride, self-determination, and autonomy.
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Yet the power of AES is more symbolic than structural. It is, at present, a fragile constellation of poor, conflict-ridden states with limited fiscal space and heavy internal burdens. Collectively, their economies account for less than five per cent of the GDP of ECOWAS. Their militaries are overstretched, their institutions brittle. But in politics, symbolism often outruns capacity. What the AES lacks in resources, it compensates for in narrative clarity. Its message — that weak states can resist, that sovereignty is worth more than stability imposed from abroad — has begun to find sympathetic ears elsewhere on the continent.
The emergence of this new axis presents ECOWAS with an existential dilemma. The organisation, once the uncontested framework of regional cooperation, is now forced to confront its legitimacy deficit. The moral authority it has long derived from championing democracy is being eroded by the perception that its enforcement of constitutional order has produced neither peace nor governance. In the Sahel, the very word “democracy” is increasingly associated with fragility — endless elections, unfulfilled expectations, and corruption without accountability. Against this backdrop, the AES’s claim that sovereignty and security matter more than ballots strikes a chord.
For Nigeria, the implications are profound. As the traditional anchor of ECOWAS and the region’s largest democracy, Nigeria has long viewed itself as both stabiliser and standard-bearer. But its leadership is now being contested not by an external rival but by an ideological alternative emerging within its neighbourhood. The AES represents a challenge not just to Nigeria’s diplomatic reach but to its philosophical foundations. If democracy is seen as incapable of delivering security or prosperity, Abuja’s normative authority in the region will inevitably diminish.
The practical stakes are no less serious. Niger shares a border of over 1,500 kilometres with Nigeria — a frontier of trade, migration, and insecurity. Instability in the Diffa or Tahoua regions spills directly into Borno and Sokoto. The dissolution of regional coordination mechanisms threatens the fragile intelligence-sharing and joint operations upon which Nigeria’s own counterinsurgency efforts depend. A divided West Africa weakens the collective ability to contain extremist networks that already blur the boundaries between the Sahel and the Lake Chad Basin.
The future of AES remains open. It may consolidate into a permanent alternative to ECOWAS, drawing in other states disillusioned by the status quo. It may remain a tactical arrangement designed to extract concessions or legitimacy. It may fragment under the pressure of economic collapse or leadership rivalries. Or it may become a platform for external influence—a proxy through which new global powers compete for African allegiance. Each scenario carries consequences for regional security, economic integration, and diplomatic coherence.
What is certain is that the AES has already altered the mental map of West African politics. Its leaders speak the language of rupture, but they have tapped into an enduring sentiment—that sovereignty, long promised and seldom delivered, must now be defended without apology. Their defiance has forced ECOWAS to confront its own fatigue and Nigeria to reconsider what leadership means in a region where moral persuasion no longer suffices.
For Nigeria, the response cannot rely on nostalgia for an older order. The AES has exposed the fragility of the consensus that once underpinned West African integration. If democracy and regionalism are to remain viable, they must be renewed from within — made relevant to citizens whose patience with rhetoric has run thin. Nigeria’s leadership, therefore, must evolve from declarative to demonstrative: less about preaching norms, more about performance results.
The contest now unfolding in the Sahel is not simply about borders or blocs. It is a contest of narratives — between those who promise control and those who promise inclusion; between sovereignty as insulation and sovereignty as interdependence. The outcome will shape the moral and strategic landscape of West Africa for a generation.
The Alliance of Sahel States has redrawn the geometry of the region. Whether it endures or implodes, it has already changed the conversation about power and legitimacy. The burden now falls on Nigeria and ECOWAS to prove that democracy, properly practised and tangibly delivered, remains the surer path to stability. In this new era, leadership will not belong to the loudest voice but to the most credible example.
Dr Hani Okoroafor is a global informatics expert advising corporate boards across Europe, Africa, North America, and the Middle East. He serves on the Editorial Advisory Board of BusinessDay. Reactions are welcome at [email protected].
