Four years ago, West Africa reacted with fury when Guinea’s elected president was overthrown in a military coup. ECOWAS suspended the country, demanded a rapid transition, and restated its doctrine of “zero tolerance” for unconstitutional changes of government.
Today, the same coup leader — after reshaping the rules and weakening the opposition — stands on the verge of being overwhelmingly “elected.” And ECOWAS has sent observers.
The question writes itself: is ECOWAS still a guardian of democratic norms, or has it quietly become a manager of political convenience?
From condemnation to accommodation
What happened to the condemnation? It didn’t vanish. It slowly mutated into accommodation.
Across the region, a troubling pattern has taken shape. A military leader intervenes “to save the nation,” promises reform, and asks for patience. Transition timelines stretch. Opposition figures are intimidated, fragmented, or edged out. New constitutions or electoral laws emerge, designed to secure the transition’s end point long before voters enter the polling booth.
This trend is not confined to Guinea.
In Côte d’Ivoire, recent elections delivered an overwhelming victory to a dominant incumbent in a contest narrowed by legal restrictions and weakened challengers. In Tanzania, elections technically went forward, but in an environment where civic space shrank, media was constrained, and genuine competition was blunted.
And across the Sahel — from Mali to Niger to Burkina Faso — elected governments have been swept aside by soldiers promising security first and accountability later. The contexts differ, but the direction is the same: institutions remain, elections occur — yet real choice fades.
When elections become choreography
Across West Africa, this formula now feels familiar: coups are followed not by swift returns to open democracy, but by long periods of controlled rule culminating in choreographed elections.
By the time citizens vote, the outcome is often predetermined. What is even more worrying is that, after initial outrage, regional bodies gradually re-engage. Sanctions soften. Observers arrive. In time, the coup is reclassified as “constitutional order restored.”
The message is dangerous but unmistakable: if a junta is patient, controls the narrative, and eventually stages elections on its own terms, it can convert an unconstitutional seizure of power into formal legitimacy. Each repetition makes the next coup easier.
The danger of being absorbed
In a very different arena, the comedian Dave Chappelle recently said something that stayed with me. In his latest Netflix special, he confessed that his greatest fear is being co-opted — not silenced, but gently absorbed until he says what others want him to say while still believing he speaks freely. He joked that if he ever uttered a certain “code phrase,” the audience should know they got him.
Beneath the humor was a serious warning: power does not always crush; sometimes it embraces, praises, and slowly rewrites your voice. Watching ensured that, I recognized the unease. Those of us who care about governance, democracy, and public life must guard against the same drift — becoming present, respected, and busy, yet gradually less truthful.
Visible, active — and hollowed out
That is the danger facing our regional politics. ECOWAS risks becoming visible, active — and hollowed out.
It still issues statements, deploys observers, convenes meetings. But if it increasingly blesses elections where the field has been narrowed and outcomes heavily shaped in advance, it becomes, like Chappelle’s nightmare, a respected institution that no longer speaks uncomfortable truths.
The rituals survive. The voice dissolves.
Managing risk instead of enforcing norms
ECOWAS is not ignorant of what is happening. Its leaders know when an election is closer to a coronation. But they operate amid real pressures — insecurity across the Sahel, fragile economies, and growing public skepticism about regional institutions themselves.
Confronted with multiple crises at once, ECOWAS has drifted from enforcing norms toward managing risk. Instead of drawing hard lines, it reaches for softer tools: easing sanctions, reopening dialogue, dispatching observer missions, and describing flawed votes as “steps toward constitutional rule.”
In the short term, that approach reduces confrontation. Over time, it weakens the very standards ECOWAS was created to defend.
Why recognition matters
Of course, refusing to recognize an election would not immediately remove anyone from office. Power still rests with those who command the security forces. But recognition is not symbolic fluff. It marks the line between principle and convenience.
It signals to citizens, to opposition parties, and to soldiers watching from the barracks whether rules are real or merely rhetorical. Today’s message too often sounds like this: as long as the rituals of democracy are performed, the absence of genuine competition can be tolerated.
Democratic culture rarely collapses in a single dramatic moment; it erodes quietly, through repeated compromises defended as pragmatism.
The cost paid by citizens
The ultimate cost is borne by ordinary citizens. They still queue in the sun to vote. They still hope elections offer peaceful accountability. But when leaders arrive through force, rewrite the rules, marginalize rivals, and then receive regional validation, people understandably ask: what is the point?
Cynicism spreads. Participation declines. And when faith in constitutional pathways disappears, the temptation to seek extra-constitutional solutions grows. Ironically, democracy drained of substance does not prevent coups; it nourishes them.
A test of regional conscience
Guinea’s election, therefore, is not merely Guinea’s business. It is a test of a regional conscience.
If ECOWAS cannot stop every coup, that is understandable. If penalties cannot be uniform across every context, that is realistic. But one principle should be non-negotiable: elections must reflect real choice, not choreography.
If we are going to let soldiers rule first and seek elections later, then let’s stop pretending. Don’t call it transition. Don’t call it reform. Call it what it is: democracy rewritten to make room for the gun.
The crossroads
ECOWAS stands at a crossroads. It can continue managing crises case by case, soothing tensions while democratic meaning thins. Or it can reclaim the harder role: a credible guardian of constitutional norms, willing to speak plainly and act consistently even when the costs are high.
Condemnation without consistency becomes noise. Engagement without standards becomes complicity. And when the language of democracy remains while its meaning fades, the region loses more than credibility — it loses trust.
West Africa deserves better than transitions designed to end exactly where they were always meant to begin. ECOWAS must decide whether it will simply accommodate reality — or help shape a future grounded in rules that actually matter.
The region, and generations yet to come, are watching.