17 Things Ibrahim Traoré Has Done Since Becoming President of Burkina Faso

In the dry morning heat of Ouagadougou, two dozen men stood beneath a makeshift awning, their uniforms faded, boots dusty, rifles slung low. Some leaned on trucks, others crouched beside bags of grain and sacks of donated boots. It was April 2023, and they were part of a new wave of volunteer soldiers, drawn from villages and cities across Burkina Faso. A sergeant called names from a list. Each reply came sharp, as if asserting the right to be heard. Nearby, a banner sagged in the heat: “General Mobilisation for the Defense of the Nation.”

Captain Ibrahim Traoré had been in power for less than a year. He was thirty-four when he seized the presidency through a military coup, replacing Paul-Henri Damiba with promises of reclaiming the nation’s sovereignty. The country had grown weary of a prolonged conflict with Islamist insurgents that had displaced two million people and left large regions beyond government control. Traoré did not offer comforting speeches. He spoke instead of sacrifice, duty, and the need to abandon dependence on external powers.

He declared a general mobilization of the population, expanding the ranks of Burkina Faso’s military and launching the largest recruitment of Volunteer Fighters for the Defense of the Homeland since the program’s inception. Over 90,000 soldiers were brought into service, not just from urban garrisons but from remote rural areas where the state had long been a distant idea. Weapons and uniforms came slowly, but the soldiers came anyway.

He severed military ties with France, expelling French troops and closing the country’s military cooperation offices. The French embassy, long considered a symbol of post-colonial entanglement, was met with protests and accusations of interference. In the months that followed, Russian advisors arrived. The country began receiving security and training assistance from Moscow, with reports of the Wagner Group’s presence in the north. Traoré, who avoided press interviews, said only that Burkina Faso would choose its partners freely and on its own terms.

He oversaw the creation of the Alliance of Sahel States, a defense pact with Mali and Niger aimed at mutual protection against insurgencies and coups, following Burkina Faso’s official withdrawal from ECOWAS in early 2025. The alliance rejected the authority of foreign mandates and openly challenged the influence of Western-led diplomatic frameworks in West Africa.

Economic pressures deepened. In rural markets, traders grumbled about rising fuel costs and scarce fertilizer. But state announcements spoke of resilience and national investment. He refused loans from the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, turning instead to internal reserves and bilateral partnerships. The decision unsettled many economists but was welcomed by those who saw international lenders as the architects of structural dependency. Government salaries were paid without borrowing. Contractors received back payments. Ministries reported a slow but consistent repayment of domestic debts.

He reduced the salaries of ministers and parliamentarians by thirty percent and increased civil servant wages by half. The symbolic reversal was not lost on the public. In villages and cafés, people shared the numbers. Officials now earned less. Teachers and nurses, slightly more. The arithmetic was imperfect, but the gesture mattered.

He inaugurated two tomato processing factories and a second national cotton facility to reduce the export of raw agricultural goods and increase domestic value chains. In a region where tomatoes often spoiled before reaching market, the factories offered new potential for both employment and food security. At one such site outside Bobo-Dioulasso, young workers in blue overalls loaded crates onto conveyor belts, the sound of machinery humming over the fields.

He invested in farming infrastructure, distributing hundreds of tractors and motorized pumps. Agricultural yields, particularly of millet and tomatoes, saw marked increases within two years. Where once harvests were lost to drought or rot, now grain silos filled earlier in the season. Farmers reported fewer middlemen, more stable prices.

In the cities, the effects were more visible in construction than in consumption. He ordered the building of forty amphitheaters to expand access to higher education. The plan was ambitious and slow, but several sites began to rise from red soil on the outskirts of academic campuses.

He launched a new postal bank with a capital of 15 billion CFA francs, aiming to increase access to credit in rural areas. The building itself stood plain and unadorned, but its accounts began opening within weeks, drawing long queues of applicants in towns like Koudougou and Tenkodogo.

Amid these changes, symbolic decisions echoed in courtrooms and cultural ceremonies. He banned the use of colonial-style judicial wigs and robes, asking magistrates and lawyers to wear traditional dress instead. To some, the shift was cosmetic. To others, it was a signal that the country would no longer mirror foreign institutions in its image of law and justice.

In November 2024, he promulgated a revised constitution, removing French as an official language and relegating it to administrative use. The move surprised few but marked a definitive departure from the post-colonial legal order. The High Court of Justice, once responsible for trying government officials, was dissolved. Critics warned of executive overreach. Supporters saw a clearer path for national sovereignty.

He suspended small-scale gold export licenses, citing concerns over smuggling and tax evasion. A new gold mine, state-managed and technologically modern, began production in the east. Officials claimed it would raise state revenues by 15 percent. Whether those figures held, audits would tell. But for now, roads near the mine were paved, schools funded, and security presence increased.

The war did not stop. In the northern and eastern provinces, killings and displacements continued. Civilian deaths surpassed 11,000 since his takeover. Entire towns vanished from census lists. International observers accused his government of pressuring journalists and civil society groups. Reports of human rights violations rose. But in official communications, the government spoke of war, not repression. There were enemies to be fought, and those not aligned with the state were seen as threats to its survival.

He reopened diplomatic relations with North Korea, the first time in decades. A North Korean flag was raised in the capital alongside others rarely seen in Sub-Saharan Africa. Some called it a symbolic gesture of alignment with non-Western states. Others called it isolation.

At the edge of a dried-up reservoir near Kaya, an aid worker pointed to a group of displaced families building clay shelters. He had been in the country for eight years and said things felt more decisive now, though not always clear. The military was more present. Government officials were stricter. Supplies were distributed with fewer delays. No one talked of normalcy. But neither did they speak of surrender.

Traoré rarely appeared in public outside of military ceremonies and official meetings. His speeches were infrequent, his policies often announced through press releases or state bulletins. His face, youthful and sharp-featured, appeared on billboards flanked by the Burkinabé flag and slogans about patriotism and rebuilding.

In May 2024, he extended the transitional government’s mandate by five years, postponing elections. Critics argued the move eroded democracy. Supporters argued the country needed stability before any vote could be free or fair. In this too, there was no resolution, only time.

He oversaw the adoption of a law criminalizing homosexuality, a move widely condemned by international human rights groups. The law passed swiftly, and enforcement began shortly after. State media described it as a return to cultural values. Western embassies described it as regression.

There were no easy verdicts on the trajectory of his leadership. Progress appeared beside pressure. Construction rose beside conflict. Policy reforms took shape while judicial independence contracted. In villages where electricity was still rare and mobile phones doubled as radios, his name was known. Some praised him as a restorer. Others feared what might come next.

At a checkpoint outside Djibo, a soldier waved cars past slowly, his rifle resting against a pile of sandbags. Behind him, a painted wall read, “Homeland or Death.” The phrase had returned from exile. Like much of the country, it stood between endurance and change.

TL/DR:

1. He declared a general mobilization of the population

2. He severed military ties with France

3. He oversaw the creation of the Alliance of Sahel States

4. He refused loans from the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank

5. He reduced the salaries of ministers and parliamentarians by thirty percent

6. He inaugurated two tomato processing factories

7. He invested in farming infrastructure

8. He ordered the building of forty amphitheaters

9. He launched a new postal bank with a capital of 15 billion CFA francs

10. He banned the use of colonial-style judicial wigs and robes

11. He promulgated a revised constitution

12. He suspended small-scale gold export licenses

13. He reopened diplomatic relations with North Korea

14. He extended the transitional government’s mandate by five years

15. He oversaw the adoption of a law criminalizing homosexuality

16. Opening of a new state-managed gold mine (included under the suspension of gold export licenses)

17. Increased agricultural yields (included under farming infrastructure investment)