Double Standards in Africa: Burkina Faso's Sovereignty vs. Ethiopia's Silent Strife

Introduction

Burkina Faso and Ethiopia are two African nations currently at the center of intense geopolitical struggles, albeit very different. Burkina Faso, a landlocked West African country of 22 million, is battling a brutal Islamist insurgency and has undergone two military coups in 2022 amid widespread frustration with insecurity. Ethiopia, in the Horn of Africa with over 120 million people, is a former empire and Africa's second-most populous nation – a country that avoided formal colonialism but now faces internal conflict and humanitarian crisis. In both cases, ordinary people suffer from violence and instability. However, the international response has been strikingly uneven. Western powers loudly condemn the new leadership in Burkina Faso for its defiance of former colonial patron France and the United States (International Crisis Group, 2023), even as they remain largely silent on Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's increasingly authoritarian and violent campaigns (Human Rights Watch, 2024). This article examines the two situations in depth – from the rise of Captain Ibrahim Traoré in Burkina Faso to the ongoing strife under Abiy Ahmed in Ethiopia – and critiques the emerging Western double standards. We examine how global powers undermine Burkina Faso's bid for true sovereignty, echoing the fate of revolutionary leader Thomas Sankara, while they respond with silence to grave abuses in Ethiopia. In doing so, we raise critical questions about neocolonialism, resource interests, and Africa's political future – and call for African citizens to recognize their power and for the world to end its silence.

Burkina Faso under Traoré: National Interest vs. Western Pressure

In late September 2022, Captain Ibrahim Traoré, then just 34 years old, seized power in Burkina Faso amid popular support. Promising to restore security and sovereignty to a nation besieged by jihadist militants, Traoré quickly captured "the hearts and minds" of many young Burkinabè who saw a bold new path in him. He became Africa's youngest head of state and vowed to break from "business as usual" in Ouagadougou. Over a decade of French-led counterterrorism operations had failed to end the insurgency; Traoré and his supporters argued that a new strategy – free from neocolonial influence – was needed.

Since taking power, Traoré has made dramatic changes to align Burkina Faso with its national interests. He expelled French troops from the country and abruptly terminated military cooperation with France, the former colonial power. He turned to new partners in their place: forging security ties with Russia and neighboring Mali and even reaching out to Cuba and Venezuela. Together with Mali and Niger (which also experienced coups), Burkina Faso formed the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) in 2023 as a regional security bloc free from Western oversight. Traoré's government has also ejected certain Western companies that are seen as exploitative and have redirected national wealth toward grassroots development projects in education, healthcare, and food security. He speaks the language of pan-African unity and self-reliance, invoking ideals of economic independence that resonate with many across the continent.

Western governments, however, have greeted Traoré's agenda with hostility and geopolitical pressure. Washington and Paris view his realignment threatening their longstanding influence in West Africa. Ever since the 2022 coup, he has drawn sharp criticism from the United States and France. In April 2023, U.S. General Michael Langley – commander of AFRICOM – accused Captain Traoré of corruption and aiding the geopolitical foothold of Russia and China in Africa. Testifying before the U.S. Senate, Langley claimed the young leader was misusing Burkina Faso's gold reserves for his protection – a charge Traoré's supporters vehemently deny (International Crisis Group, 2023). For their part, French officials have lambasted Burkina Faso's closer ties with Moscow and reportedly pushed for a quick return to civilian rule. In practice, Western powers have cut off some aid, issued travel warnings, and tacitly supported regional sanctions suspending Burkina Faso from organizations like ECOWAS and the African Union. The new junta's defiance of Western dictates has prompted international media to target Traoré, often portraying him as a dangerous autocrat or a pawn of the Kremlin.

However, people on the streets of Ouagadougou and even in neighboring countries do not see Ibrahim Traoré as a pariah—they hail him as a patriot. Thousands of Burkinabè have rallied in the capital, waving national flags and chanting anti-imperialist slogans in support of "Captain Ibrahim," urging foreigners to leave their country alone. Solidarity protests have even swept across West Africa. In April 2025, demonstrations in Ghana, Liberia, and other nations echoed the cry of "Hands off Burkina Faso!" as ordinary Africans praised Traoré's stand against neocolonial meddling.

The junta has alleged that external forces have already attempted to destabilize Traoré's government. In April 2023 and again in April 2025, Burkinabè authorities say they foiled coup plots orchestrated by elements tied to a neighboring country widely seen as aligned with France and the U.S. One such plot aimed to "sow total chaos" and reverse Burkina Faso's "sovereign and revolutionary path," according to the government. While difficult to independently verify, these claims have further fueled public anger at perceived foreign subversion. "Under Captain Traoré, Burkina Faso has become a symbol of African dignity and resistance," declared one grassroots movement in Ghana, adding that Burkinabè is "fighting to reclaim their wealth and future from the clutches of neocolonialism." This growing pan-African solidarity suggests that many see their struggles reflected in Burkina Faso's plight.

Meanwhile, the security situation that precipitated Burkina Faso's coup remains dire. Despite the regime's bold moves, Islamist insurgents still control vast swathes of rural territory, and violence against civilians continues. The government estimates that armed groups now control more than 60% of the country and have displaced over 2.1 million Burkinabè from their homes. Humanitarian needs are soaring – nearly 6.5 million people (about a quarter of the population) require emergency aid to survive. Traoré's pledge to restore peace is far from realized, and rights groups have accused Burkina Faso's security forces and allied militias of abuses during counterinsurgency operations, including extrajudicial killings of suspected militants. The junta's heavy-handed measures – such as tight censorship and the reported abduction or detention of dissenting voices – also draw criticism. These issues are serious, but Western powers notably highlight them in Burkina Faso's case while often downplaying similar or worse abuses by allies elsewhere. The discrepancy in international outrage becomes even clearer when one looks at Ethiopia.

Echoes of Thomas Sankara: Undermining Genuine African Leadership

Burkina Faso's current struggle evokes an earlier chapter in its history – the brief, luminous rule of Thomas Sankara in the 1980s. Captain Traoré has invoked Sankara's legacy, and many of his supporters draw direct parallels between the two leaders. Thomas Sankara, who came to power in 1983, was a fiery Marxist revolutionary who championed self-reliance and anti-imperialism. In just four years as president, he transformed the former Upper Volta into "Burkina Faso," meaning "Land of Upright People," and launched ambitious programs focused on food self-sufficiency, public health, education, and women's rights. He famously proclaimed, "We are fighting this system that allows a handful of men on earth to rule all of humanity," as he sought to break the "chains of economic dependency on the West."

Sankara's revolutionary policies and blistering critiques of colonialism earned him widespread admiration – and the enmity of powerful interests. He openly confronted France (Burkina Faso's old colonial ruler) over its African policy, which he denounced as paternalistic and exploitative. French President François Mitterrand once described Sankara as "disturbing" and a man who "goes further than is necessary," after Sankara publicly condemned France's tolerance of South African apartheid. Paris was "annoyed" by Sankara's anti-imperialist speeches and accused of backing his domestic opponents to stifle his revolution. Tragically, those opponents struck in October 1987: Sankara was assassinated (Harsch, 2014) by soldiers during a coup led by his former comrade, Blaise Compaoré.

To this day, Sankara's supporters accuse France of having masterminded his killing – seeing it as the ultimate punishment for a leader who challenged foreign domination. Compaoré, who seized power after Sankara's death, promptly steered Burkina Faso back into a close alliance with France, undoing many of Sankara's nationalist policies. For 27 years, Compaoré ruled with French backing while suppressing the dreams of the Sankarist revolution. Only in recent years, after Compaoré's 2014 ouster, has Burkina Faso begun to investigate Sankara's murder formally; in 2022, a military tribunal convicted Compaoré (in absentia) for his role. However, key questions remain about external involvement. Burkina Faso has even asked France to declassify its archives on the affair, suspecting that French intelligence or other foreign actors were complicit. Paris has never fully come clean, and the episode remains a searing example for many Africans of how "genuine African leaders" who put their people first often meet violent ends.

This historical memory looms large today. Captain Traoré's admirers often portray him as "a new Sankara" – a principled young leader prioritizing his nation's interest over foreign dictates. Moreover, his admirers fear that the West will undermine him as they did to Sankara. The pattern of undermining independent African leadership is sadly familiar across the continent's post-colonial history. One finds a troubling through-line from Patrice Lumumba in the Congo to Kwame Nkrumah in Ghana, Amílcar Cabral in Guinea-Bissau, and Thomas Sankara in Burkina Faso. As one solidarity statement said, "Their only crime was to insist that their countries’ natural resources serve their people." For that, these leaders were deposed or killed – victims of coups, assassinations, and destabilization campaigns often linked (directly or indirectly) to Western intelligence or former colonial powers. Burkina Faso's current trajectory under Traoré – rejecting France's orbit, asserting control over gold mines and other resources, and pursuing an unapologetically nationalist policy – fits this pattern, too. It raises the question: Will foreign powers allow another Sankara to flourish? Or will history repeat itself? The rallying cry "We failed Sankara, we can’t fail Traoré" heard at demonstrations a plea to avoid a repeat of past betrayals. It is a demand that African sovereignty be respected this time around.

Ethiopia under Abiy Ahmed: A Campaign of Violence and International Silence

In stark contrast to Burkina Faso's open confrontation with Western interests, Ethiopia's Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has largely escaped international censure even as his government wages violent campaigns against segments of its population. Abiy rose to power in 2018 amid high hopes for reform in Ethiopia. He won a Nobel Peace Prize in 2019 for making peace with neighboring Eritrea. However, Abiy's rule has taken a dramatically repressive turn since then. A devastating civil war erupted in 2020 between the federal government and the Tigray region, killing an estimated hundreds of thousands of civilians through fighting, massacres, famine, and disease. That two-year war formally ended with a peace agreement in late 2022, but Ethiopia's cycle of internal conflict has not ended. In 2023–2024, new violence flared in the Amhara region, where Abiy's government deployed federal troops against its erstwhile allies – the Amhara regional forces and allied militias known as Fano. The result has been a brutal crackdown on Amhara communities that have drawn alarmingly little attention from global powers (Human Rights Watch, 2024).

One of the Ethiopian government's preferred tactics has been drone warfare, a method Abiy Ahmed's military acquired during the Tigray war (reportedly using drones bought from allies like Turkey and the UAE). In recent months, drone bombings have repeatedly struck civilian targets in the Amhara region, causing horrific casualties. On April 23, 2025, for example, a drone strike in the town of Gedeb (East Gojjam Zone) bombarded a primary school compound where local families had gathered for a community event. The attack killed more than 100 civilians, including women and children. "This atrocity adds to a growing list of similar incidents in recent months," observed the World Council of Churches, which condemned the strike and noted another devastating drone attack in late 2024 that also targeted civilians. Indeed, in a single month – February 2025 – drone strikes in Amhara's Ambasel and Efrata Gidem districts reportedly killed numerous civilians, including children and pregnant women. Residents and witnesses have disputed the government's claims that these strikes were precision attacks on "terrorist" Fano fighters, insisting that many of the victims were ordinary villagers nowhere near any legitimate military target.

The toll of Addis Ababa's military campaigns in its northern regions is staggering. In the Amhara region alone, the recent conflict (sometimes termed the "Fano uprising" or Amhara resistance) has displaced over 900,000 people and killed untold thousands. This tragedy comes on top of the war in Tigray and ongoing unrest in Oromia, which collectively have left at least 3 million Ethiopians internally displaced and 21 million in need of humanitarian assistance across the country. Entire communities in northern Ethiopia have been traumatized by mass killings, sexual violence, and the destruction of livelihoods. The Ethiopian Human Rights Commission and other observers have documented alarming patterns: extrajudicial executions, arbitrary arrests, enforced disappearances, and the use of starvation and siege tactics in both the current conflict in the Amhara region and during the Tigray conflict. The conflict has wreaked havoc in Schools and hospitals in both areas. By one estimate, between 40–50% of women and girls in war-torn Tigray suffered sexual violence during the war – a sobering indicator of the scale of atrocity.

However, despite these egregious human rights abuses, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has faced relatively muted reproach on the world stage (Amnesty International, 2021).To be sure, some international actors have voiced concern: various UN bodies have reported on likely war crimes by all parties, and countries like the United States imposed a partial aid freeze and visa restrictions on officials during the Tigray war. However, nothing has been akin to the sweeping condemnations or coordinated sanctions that one might expect if held to the same standard as other conflicts. Crucially, there has been no action by the International Criminal Court (ICC) or any tribunal to hold Ethiopian leaders accountable, even as African leaders from Sudan's Omar al-Bashir to Libya's Muammar Gaddafi have been indicted or threatened with indictment for crimes that arguably pale in comparison. Ethiopia is not a signatory to the ICC, and geopolitical considerations have shielded Abiy's government from a UN Security Council referral. The result is de facto impunity. A UN commission of experts (ICHREE) that was investigating abuses in Ethiopia saw its mandate terminated in 2023 after lobbying by Ethiopia's government – a move Amnesty International said "further entrenches impunity and undermines victims’ hopes for justice.". As long as Abiy remains a regional ally to major powers (for instance, cooperating on counterterrorism and hosting African Union headquarters), there appears to be little appetite in Western capitals to ostracize him or demand international justice for the victims of his campaigns.

The silence – or at least subdued response – surrounding Abiy Ahmed's excesses is especially glaring when contrasted with the outrage directed at leaders like Captain Traoré. Where the young Burkinabè leader is harshly criticized for transitional military rule and aligning with non-Western powers, Abiy (an elected leader who has since delayed elections and cracked down on dissent) is often still treated as a reformist partner. Western diplomats continue to meet Abiy with a degree of respect on the international stage, and Ethiopia has largely avoided harsh sanctions. Such preferential treatment sends a troubling message: Western powers give some African leaders a free pass to bomb and starve their people as long as those leaders align with their strategic interests. Meanwhile, others who challenge those interests are declared pariahs even when their sins are arguably lesser.

The Fano Resistance and Ethiopia's Deepening Crisis

To fully grasp the crisis in Ethiopia – and the world's uneven reaction – one must understand the context of the Amhara resistance and the factors driving Abiy's heavy-handed approach. The Amhara people, Ethiopia's second-largest ethnic group, were key allies in Abiy's war against the Tigray rebellion. Paramilitary units and local militias from Amhara (including the loosely organized fighters known as Fano) fought alongside the federal army. In the process, Amhara forces took control of disputed lands in western Tigray. However, after the Tigray war's end, Abiy's government moved to dissolve regional special forces across Ethiopia to centralize the military. In April 2023, this policy provoked a backlash in Amhara: many in the region saw disbanding their troops as a threat to their autonomy and security, especially given ongoing ethnic attacks by other groups. Once informally tolerated, Fano militias have now mobilized against Abiy's government, accusing it of betraying Amhara's interests. By mid-2023, fierce clashes erupted between Fano fighters and the Ethiopian National Defense Forces in multiple Amhara towns. Abiy's administration declared a state of emergency in August 2023, cutting off the internet and imposing curfews across Amhara.

The government has met the Fano resistance with overwhelming force. Lacking heavy weaponry, Fano groups have resorted to guerrilla tactics, but government forces – bolstered by drones and elite units – have gradually reasserted control, often at significant civilian cost. For example, the government justified the drone strike in Gedeb (April 2025) mentioned earlier as a hit on "terrorists," – but independent accounts indicate it struck a civilian gathering. Similar incidents suggest a pattern of collective punishment against communities suspected of sympathizing with Fano, including the February 2025 strikes that killed children. In addition to aerial attacks, there have been reports of ground operations where federal troops or allied militias have indiscriminately shelled towns, carried out mass arrests, and even executed detainees (Reuters, 2024). The Ethiopian government has tightly controlled media access, but refugees fleeing to Sudan and Kenya have brought harrowing testimonies of atrocities.

The conflict has also compounded Ethiopia's economic woes. Once one of Africa's fastest-growing economies, Ethiopia is now grappling with high inflation, a debt crisis, and a collapse in investor confidence. War expenditures and the destruction of infrastructure have drained the treasury. Millions of Ethiopians are experiencing acute food insecurity, especially in conflict-affected areas where violence has disrupted farming and authorities have restricted aid deliveries. "People are struggling to survive with aid food due to the chaos initiated by [Abiy’s] war," observes one analysis, noting that government resources have been squandered on conflict and vanity projects while ordinary citizens go hungry. The Ethiopian birr has depreciated sharply, and hard currency shortages led the government to seek emergency lifelines – such as a $1 billion infusion from the United Arab Emirates in early 2023 to bolster foreign exchange reserves. Abiy has abandoned his initial economic reform agenda and shifted his focus to funding military operations and quelling unrest.

At the same time, the Prime Minister has embarked on an ambitious urban mega-project that has drawn scathing criticism. In late 2022, Abiy launched the "Corridor Development Project" (CDP) in the capital, Addis Ababa – an urban renewal scheme that notably includes the construction of a vast new presidential palace complex. Code-named the "Chaka Project," this planned palace is nothing short of colossal: slated to cover 503 hectares in the Yeka Hills on Addis Ababa's outskirts, it would be larger than the White House, the Kremlin, Buckingham Palace, and Versailles combined. Initially shrouded in secrecy, Abiy eventually admitted to Parliament that the palace could cost around $10 billion – an eye-watering sum in a country where the annual budget is about $15 billion. Some estimates even warn it could swell to $15 billion. The Prime Minister claimed the project would be funded by private donations rather than taxpayer money, hinting that international backers (reportedly the UAE) would finance much of it. Indeed, the United Arab Emirates – which has been a close ally of Abiy, supplying drones and cash – is widely believed to be a significant source of funds for this opulent complex.

The human cost of Abiy's palace project has been immediate. To clear land for the Corridor Development Project, authorities have undertaken mass forced evictions on an unprecedented scale. Since December 2022, authorities have forcibly removed thousands of low-income residents from their homes in Addis Ababa and 58 other towns as part of this scheme. Entire neighborhoods – including heritage sites – have been demolished with little or no compensation to those evicted. Amnesty International reports that the government carried out these evictions without genuine consultation, adequate notice, or provision of alternative housing in flagrant violation of international human rights law. Families have watched their houses bulldozed and belongings destroyed under the banner of "urban modernization." In Addis Ababa's Arat Kilo and Piassa areas, the government razed even schools and historic buildings during the first phase of the CDP. The second phase, announced in late 2024, spans 2,000 hectares and triggered even wider displacements. Abiy's critics argue that the grand palace is a vanity project – a new imperial residence for a leader with growing autocratic tendencies – and that its pursuit amid war and famine is grotesquely tone-deaf. As one commentator said, "There is no justification for the waste of public funds on [this] nonsense project that caused forced evictions, damaged histories, and fueled skyrocketing inflation."

While the government evicts poor Ethiopians to make way for manicured palace gardens, conflict and neglect are destroying their children's futures. The war and instability have led to mass school closures across Ethiopia. According to UNICEF, more than 9 million Ethiopian children are currently out of school due to the combined impact of conflict, violence, and displacement, as well as climate disasters. Over 6,000 schools have been shut down or destroyed nationwide (World Bank, 2024). In Amhara and other war-torn areas, schools have been bombed, looted, or requisitioned by armed groups. Education budgets are strained in the capital as funds divert elsewhere. It is a bitter irony that as Abiy Ahmed pours resources into an extravagant palace – even coercing domestic businesses to donate – millions of Ethiopian children sit idle, their classrooms closed and their hopes dimming. The contrast encapsulates how war and the pursuit of power have distorted the nation's priorities.

Western Hypocrisy: Two Crises, Two Responses

The cases of Burkina Faso and Ethiopia reveal a glaring double standard in Western foreign policy and international justice. On one hand, Captain Traoré's Burkina Faso has been subjected to withering scrutiny and pressure since he assumed power. The United States and European Union routinely denounce the Burkinabè junta's democratic deficit, and regional bodies (likely influenced by Western diplomacy) have suspended Burkina Faso's membership and threatened sanctions (International Crisis Group, 2023). French officials lambast Traoré for embracing Russian influence, and Western media often brand him part of a "new wave of anti-Western strongmen" destabilizing Africa. The International Criminal Court (ICC), though not directly involved in Burkina Faso (which, like Ethiopia, is not an ICC member), has historically been quick to investigate or threaten action against leaders of pariah regimes in Africa. The mere specter of human rights violations under Traoré – such as reports of abuses during counter-terror operations – elicits calls from some quarters for accountability.

However, on the other hand, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed's government in Ethiopia – despite perpetrating far greater humanitarian atrocities – has largely escaped comparable censure or punishment. No senior Ethiopian official faces an international indictment or targeted UN sanctions. Western governments have avoided directly labeling Abiy a war criminal or even a dictator, though his actions arguably warrant both terms. In diplomatic circles, officials often treat Ethiopia as a sovereign government managing an "internal matter," while they portray Burkina's junta as a rogue regime. This discrepancy does not stem from a lack of information: the UN, human rights groups and journalists have extensively documented the atrocities in Ethiopia's wars. Instead, it appears to stem from geopolitical calculations and neocolonial biases.

For France and the United States, Burkina Faso under Traoré represents a loss of influence – a breakaway from the sphere of Western control in a region France dominated for a century. Thus, they are quick to "demonize" Traoré, as one West African commentator noted, in a classic case of "give the dog a bad name and hang it." The smear campaign and external meddling aimed at Traoré resemble past tactics used to justify regime changes in countries defying Western interests. By contrast, Ethiopia under Abiy remains strategically essential: it is a bulwark in the volatile Horn of Africa, a partner against Islamist extremists in Somalia, and a vast market where Western and Chinese investors have stakes. Major powers seem unwilling to isolate Abiy's government or jeopardize relations, especially after the Tigray war's official end produced a peace deal they could hail as a diplomatic success. In essence, leaders value stability and allegiance over principle. The message sent is that if a government is friendly or pivotal to Western agendas, its undemocratic or abusive behavior, the West will largely overlook it. However, if a government challenges Western dominance or pivots to rivals like Russia, it will be castigated and undermined, even if it has widespread support at home.

This hypocrisy erodes the credibility of international norms. How can the West preach democracy and human rights to Africa when it selectively ignores abuses? The ICC's focus on specific African conflicts while ignoring others furthers the perception of the politicized nature of international justice. (It has not escaped notice that nearly all individuals ever indicted by the ICC have been African, yet figures like Abiy or others aligned with powerful UN Security Council members remain untouchable.) The United Nations Security Council, too, has acted inconsistently: it referred Sudan's Darfur situation to the ICC in 2005 against Khartoum's will, but it refuses to take similar action against Ethiopia, even though some experts have described the arguably worse atrocities in Tigray as "acts of genocide." Even the media coverage reflects double standards – with far more headlines devoted to coups and Russian mercenaries in the Sahel than to famine and war crimes in Ethiopia. Africans recognize this imbalance in outrage and action. It feeds a growing resentment against neocolonialism and foreign meddling, as many perceive that Western interest in Africa's welfare is only as genuine as the alignment of African governments with Western strategic or economic interests.

Neocolonialism, Resource Exploitation, and Africa's Future

Longstanding neocolonialism and resource exploitation issues are at the heart of these double standards. France's historical and ongoing interests in West Africa closely shape the saga of Burkina Faso. For decades after independence, France maintained a de facto regional empire – controlling currencies, handpicking leaders, and extracting resources. Burkina Faso (and its neighbors Mali and Niger) are rich in gold, uranium, and other minerals that global powers covet. Traoré's pivot away from France and towards new partners threatens to upend entrenched economic arrangements – from mining contracts to military bases – and thus is fiercely opposed by the former colonial master and its Western allies. The U.S. AFRICOM commander's accusations of "misusing gold" leveled at Traoré hint at this underlying contest. It is essentially a charge that Burkina Faso's leader is not keeping his gold in Western hands or under Western supervision.

Meanwhile, the alliance with Russia (including a likely Wagner Group presence) introduces another considerable power seeking a share of the region's riches in exchange for security services. Ordinary Burkinabè supporting Traoré are certainly nationalistic, but they also face the reality that external powers – France, the U.S., or Russia – may all ultimately be interested in their country's resources. The challenge is forging a genuinely independent path that avoids swapping one external patron for another.

Land, identity, and power disputes often entangle Ethiopia's conflicts, yet the international community shows interest in Ethiopia mainly because of its strategic location and potential as an economic hub. The Horn of Africa sits at the crossroads of the Red Sea and Indian Ocean trade routes, making Ethiopia's stability key for global commerce (and military positioning). Moreover, Ethiopia's abundant water (the Nile headwaters) and fertile lands have drawn foreign investment and sometimes exploitation. Gulf countries, for instance, have leased large tracts of Ethiopian farmland. Chinese companies invest heavily in Ethiopian infrastructure, while Western firms eye its consumer market. The UAE's funding of Abiy's grand palace can be seen as an investment in a friendly regime that grants it favorable access – a form of neo-colonial patronage under the guise of development aid (Reuters, 2024; World Bank, 2024). Who benefits as Ethiopia's government cracks down on dissent and carves up land for projects like the Corridor? The evictions in Addis Ababa pave the way for a palace and lucrative real estate and construction deals likely involving foreign contractors and Ethiopian elites close to Abiy. The suffering of poor residents is collateral damage in a vision of "modernization" that conspicuously serves those at the top.

The broader question is: What is Africa's political future facing these old and new forms of imperial influence? Will it be one where leaders like Traoré – who advocate a clean break from neo-colonial arrangements – succeed in charting a new course? Or will it be one where leaders like Abiy – who concentrate power internally and align externally with dominant powers – become the norm? Perhaps neither extreme can deliver the just, peaceful future Africans deserve. Traoré's experiment, if it survives foreign subversion, will still have to address internal governance and development challenges without falling prey to authoritarianism or dependency on another considerable power. Abiy's trajectory, if unchecked, could lead Ethiopia further into fragmentation and dictatorship, squandering the nation's potential and stability of the region. Moreover, in many other African countries, people watch these examples closely.

What is clear is that Africans are increasingly conscious of the need to complete the unfinished business of decolonization. Consequently, African leaders must pursue political self-rule and economic self-determination—ensuring they use the continent's vast natural wealth to uplift its people, not to enrich foreign companies or local kleptocrats. It also means unity and solidarity across borders so that no African nation stands alone when asserting its rights. The new Alliance of Sahel States (Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger) is one manifestation of this push for collective self-reliance. In East Africa, there are calls for greater regional integration and African Union assertiveness to resolve conflicts without external diktats. The youth, in particular, who make up the majority of Africans today, are less patient with leaders they perceive as puppets of outside powers – whether those powers are the former colonial West or new economic giants like China.

Western countries must confront their hypocrisy if they truly support Africa's progress. They cannot continue to exploit resources and prop up friendly autocrats in one place while lecturing about democracy in another. Doing so only fuels anti-Western sentiment and allows rival powers to step in. If the U.S. and Europe want credibility, they need to apply consistent standards: condemn and penalize war crimes and repression even when committed by allies, and respect the sovereignty of nations that choose an independent path even when it disadvantages Western interests. The alternative is a slide back into “Cold War-esque” proxy dynamics, where African lives are pawns on a geopolitical chessboard – something that the world ostensibly vowed "never again" after the horrors those conflicts wrought.

Conclusion: End the Silence, Empower the People

The stories of Burkina Faso under Traoré and Ethiopia under Abiy Ahmed are a study in contrasts – one a fight for genuine sovereignty being stymied by foreign pressure, the other a descent into authoritarian violence largely met with global indifference. However, at their core, both raise the same urgent alarm: the fate of African nations should be determined by their people, not by external powers or self-serving elites, and double standards in international affairs are costing lives in Africa.

For African citizens, the imperative is to realize their power and demand better governance and accountability. Such a stance also means standing up against internal tyranny and external interference. The people of Burkina Faso have shown inspiring resolve in rallying behind a leader they believe represents their interests – but they must also hold that leader to his promises of serving the public good (as Thomas Sankara did) and not tolerate any return to corruption or abuse under new guises. In Ethiopia, people from all regions – Amhara, Tigray, Oromo, and beyond – must overcome divisive propaganda and unite to insist on peace and inclusive dialogue. Any development or security goal cannot justify the tremendous suffering inflicted by war. Africans across the continent are increasingly refusing to be silent about injustices – whether it is neo-colonial exploitation in West Africa or war crimes in East Africa. One West African solidarity group proclaimed, "We stand with the people… who are fighting to reclaim their wealth and future from the clutches of neo-colonialism." That spirit must spread, empowering civil society, youth, and progressive movements to demand that leaders serve the people first and last.

For the international community and specifically Western powers, it is time to end the selective outrage and the silence where it is convenient. Every civilian life lost to a drone strike in Ethiopia and every child out of school due to conflict should weigh as heavily as a violation of democratic order in Burkina Faso – if not more so. The world cannot afford to ignore yet another African humanitarian catastrophe simply because the government responsible is a diplomatic partner. Global actors must speak out unequivocally against the atrocities in Ethiopia's Amhara and other regions, support independent investigations, and press for a political solution that respects the rights of all communities. Likewise, they must reconsider the reflexive punishment of states like Burkina Faso that choose a different path; engagement and dialogue, not paternalistic condemnation, will better serve the cause of stability and human rights in the Sahel. Moreover, if Western countries truly champion democracy, they should respect Burkina Faso's right to pursue policies outside of Paris or Washington's shadow so long as its government is ultimately accountable to its people (Amnesty International, 2021).

In the end, the double standard is untenable. People must uphold human rights and self-determination principles as universal values, not use them as convenience tools. Africans will determine Africa's future, but the international community can hinder or help this journey. Will it continue with the old pattern of carving out spheres of influence and picking favorites, or will it support the continent's aspiration to throw off all vestiges of colonialism and authoritarianism? The answer may lie in how we collectively respond to the two situations highlighted here. The world's silence in the face of one leader's crimes and overreaction to another's independence is wrong. It is time to replace silence with solidarity and double standards with double efforts to ensure all African peoples enjoy peace, justice, and the fruits of their land's wealth.

Africa is watching and remembering. The blood of Ethiopian mothers and children and the dreams of Burkinabè youth all demand a reckoning. Let this be the moment the world finally listens – and acts with consistency and conscience. Only then can we hope for a future where leaders like Sankara are celebrated and emulated, not silenced, and where no African child's life is treated as a mere pawn in a global game. The clarion call is clear: end the hypocrisy and the violence and let Africa rise on its terms.

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