In Burkina Faso, the memory of Thomas Sankara now occupies a place far beyond that of a historical legacy. It has become a structural element of the political narrative advanced by Ibrahim Traoré’s administration. Behind the official tributes, the military ceremonies and the construction of a mausoleum, a single question keeps returning: is the present leadership gradually appropriating the figure of Sankara in order to consolidate its own political legitimacy?
The suggestion does not originate solely with commentators. It is equally visible in the state’s own communication.
A monthly ritual placed at the service of continuity
Since 2026, the Burkinabè government has organised a military ceremony devoted to Thomas Sankara every month, an initiative presented as having been established on the instructions of Ibrahim Traoré. Official discourse reaches further still: during a tribute held in February 2026, the president’s chief of staff declared that the “flame” of Thomas Sankara is now borne by Ibrahim Traoré.
This staging of historical continuity raises a fundamental issue. Does Ibrahim Traoré simply wish to honour Sankara, or does he intend to present himself as the man who has taken up and continued his struggle?
The distinction matters.
Thomas Sankara belongs to the history of Burkina Faso and to the memory of millions of Africans. Yet there also exists a family memory, upheld in particular by his widow Mariam Sankara, his children, his brothers and his sisters. On this subject, the relationship between the family and the transitional authorities has never been as consensual as the official account might suggest.
The rupture of February 2023
The most revealing precedent dates back to February 2023.
Following the exhumation of the bodies of Thomas Sankara and his twelve companions, the government decided to proceed with their reinterment on the site of the former Conseil de l’Entente, which has since become the Mémorial Thomas Sankara. The symbolic weight of that choice is considerable: it was precisely there that Sankara and his companions were assassinated on 15 October 1987.
Three alternative sites proposed by the family
The Sankara family objected. On 16 February 2023, Mariam Sankara, her two sons Philippe and Auguste, and the brothers and sisters of the late president addressed Ibrahim Traoré directly, asking him to abandon the decision. They put forward three other locations: the Dagnoën cemetery, the Jardin de l’Amitié and the Jardin Yennenga.
The disagreement then became public. The family considered that the decision had been taken without genuine consensus and refused to take part in the ceremony. On 21 February, it confirmed that it would be neither present nor represented at the burial.
A ceremony held in the family’s absence
On 23 February, the ceremony went ahead regardless. The authorities moved forward; the family kept its distance.
This sequence is essential to an understanding of what followed, because Traoré’s government would progressively turn Sankara’s memory into a central element of its own political account.
From monument to institution: a heritage placed under state management
Since that period, Sankara’s institutional presence has continued to intensify.
The mausoleum intended for Thomas Sankara and his twelve companions was erected on the Memorial site. Ibrahim Traoré laid its first stone on 15 October 2023, and the structure was inaugurated in May 2025. The project is officially described as intended to preserve and promote the political legacy of the father of the August 1983 revolution.
In 2026, this memorial policy acquires a further dimension through the monthly military ceremonies. Through such initiatives, the authorities no longer merely commemorate Sankara: they organise, institutionalise and stage his memory.
A lineage presented as self-evident
This is where one of the major political stakes lies. Within the official account, Ibrahim Traoré can appear as the man who has at last fully rehabilitated Sankara, restored his memory and taken up his struggle.
Government discourse suggests as much quite openly. In June 2026, during a tribute at the Memorial, the minister of foreign affairs stated that Sankara’s flame is carried “with dignity and commitment” by Ibrahim Traoré.
Such a presentation mechanically draws the two figures closer together in the collective imagination: Sankara, the assassinated revolutionary; Traoré, the young captain depicted as the one who would take up the flame.
What a family memory preserves, and a state cannot absorb
It is precisely here that the family’s position becomes decisive.
For those close to Thomas Sankara, his legacy cannot be reduced to an instrument of political communication or to a backdrop legitimising power. His body, his remains, the place of his burial and the memory kept by his relatives possess an intimate dimension that the state cannot entirely assimilate.
Since 2023, however, the authorities have taken control of a large part of the institutional staging of that memory: the reinterment, the mausoleum, the military ceremonies, the official tributes, the speeches on sovereignty and the constant references to the revolution.
The paradox is striking. The government that today claims Sankara’s political heritage is also the one with which part of his family found itself in disagreement over the very manner in which his remains should be handled.
This is not to assert that Ibrahim Traoré personally seeks to “take” Sankara from his family. Such an intention would belong to the realm of interpretation and would require further evidence. The facts nonetheless permit another observation: the regime is progressively constructing a narrative in which Ibrahim Traoré appears as the political heir of Captain Sankara and as the man who has taken up his struggle.
That construction is far from insignificant. It enables the present leadership to situate itself within an exceptionally powerful revolutionary lineage in Burkina Faso. It also supplies a historical reference capable of lending ideological depth to its own discourse on sovereignty, pan-Africanism and independence.
Researchers have moreover noted the frequency with which Traoré invokes Sankara’s memory, and the manner in which his political rhetoric adopts certain themes associated with the former president, notably sovereignty and the rejection of external dependence.
Who holds the right to interpret a memory?
Ultimately, this is the most sensitive question of all.
Thomas Sankara is not merely a statue, a mausoleum or a military ceremony. He is also a family history, a painful memory and a political struggle whose interpretation cannot be imposed by decree.
The transitional authorities may legitimately honour his memory. They may restore sites, organise ceremonies and preserve his archives. Yet another question remains: may they, in the name of that rehabilitation, present themselves as the natural custodians of his heritage?
The precedent of 2023 shows that the Sankara family has not always accepted the choices made by the authorities in this regard.
Therein lies the entire ambiguity of the present narrative. By repeatedly presenting himself as the man who “carries the flame” of Sankara, Ibrahim Traoré risks shifting the memory of a man assassinated in 1987 towards another story: that of a contemporary government seeking to inscribe its own name within the continuity of the revolution.
Sankara left behind an oeuvre and a body of thought. Traoré is today building his own power. Between the two, the memory of Thomas Sankara has become a major political issue.
