When a state claims ownership of a revolutionary’s memory
In Burkina Faso, the figure of Thomas Sankara has long ceased to be a purely historical reference. It now occupies a central place in the political narrative articulated by the authorities of Ibrahim Traoré. Behind the official tributes, the military ceremonies and the construction of a mausoleum, a deeper question emerges: is the current leadership gradually appropriating Sankara’s image in order to consolidate its own political legitimacy?
This convergence is not merely the reading of outside observers. It is equally visible in the regime’s own official communication.
Since 2026, the Burkinabè government has organised a monthly military ceremony dedicated to Thomas Sankara, an initiative presented as having been introduced on the instructions of Ibrahim Traoré. Official discourse goes further still: during a tribute held in February 2026, the president’s chief of staff asserted that Sankara’s torch is now borne by Ibrahim Traoré.
This staging of historical continuity raises a fundamental question: does Ibrahim Traoré simply wish to honour Sankara, or does he seek to present himself as the man who took up and pursued 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, carried in particular by his widow Mariam Sankara, his children, his brothers and his sisters. On this point, the relationship between the family and the transitional authorities has never been as consensual as the official narrative might imply.
A rupture that dates back to 2023
The most telling precedent goes back to February 2023.
Following the exhumation of the remains of Thomas Sankara and his twelve companions, the government decided to reinter them on the site of the former Conseil de l’Entente, which had become the Thomas Sankara Memorial. The choice carried heavy symbolism: it was precisely there that Sankara and his companions had been assassinated on 15 October 1987.
The Sankara family opposed the decision.
On 16 February 2023, Mariam Sankara, her two sons Philippe and Auguste, and the late president’s siblings addressed Ibrahim Traoré directly, asking him to abandon the plan. They put forward three alternative 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.
On 23 February, the ceremony went ahead regardless.
The authorities moved forward. The family remained at a distance.
This sequence is essential to understanding what followed, for Traoré’s government would gradually turn Sankara’s memory into a central element of its own political narrative.
Transforming Sankara into a state inheritance
Since that period, Sankara’s institutional presence has only intensified.
The mausoleum intended for Thomas Sankara and his twelve companions was built on the memorial site. Ibrahim Traoré laid its foundation stone on 15 October 2023, before its inauguration in May 2025. The project was officially presented as a means of preserving and promoting the political legacy of the father of the August 1983 revolution.
In 2026, this commemorative policy acquired a further dimension with the monthly military ceremonies.
Through such initiatives, the authorities no longer merely commemorate Sankara. They organise, institutionalise and stage his memory.
The political stakes of a staged homage
This is where one of the major political issues resides.
In the official narrative, Ibrahim Traoré can thus appear as the man who finally rehabilitated Sankara in full, restored his memory and resumed his struggle.
Government discourse openly suggests as much. In June 2026, during a tribute at the memorial, the minister of foreign affairs even stated that Sankara’s torch is carried with dignity and commitment by Ibrahim Traoré.
Such a presentation mechanically brings the two figures closer together in the collective imagination: Sankara, the assassinated revolutionary; Traoré, the young captain portrayed as the one who would take up the torch.
The perils of a narrative built around Sankara’s body
It is precisely here that the family question becomes central.
For Thomas Sankara’s relatives, his legacy cannot be reduced to an instrument of political communication or to a backdrop for legitimising power.
His body, his remains, his burial place and his family memory carry an intimate dimension that the state cannot entirely absorb.
Yet since 2023, the authorities have taken control of a large part of the institutional staging of that memory: the reburial, the mausoleum, the military ceremonies, the official tributes, the speeches on sovereignty and the constant references to the revolution.
The paradox is striking. The power that today claims Sankara’s political heritage is also the one with which part of his family found itself at odds 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 be a matter of interpretation and would require further evidence.
But the facts allow another observation: the regime is gradually constructing a narrative in which Ibrahim Traoré appears as the political heir of Captain Sankara and as the man who resumed his struggle.
This construction is far from incidental.
It allows the current authorities to place themselves within an extraordinarily powerful revolutionary lineage in Burkina Faso. It also provides them with a historical reference capable of lending ideological depth to their own discourse on sovereignty, pan-Africanism and independence.
Researchers have moreover noted how frequently Traoré invokes Sankara’s memory and how his political discourse echoes certain themes associated with the former president, notably sovereignty and the rejection of external dependence.
Does memory belong to those who hold power?
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. But another question remains: can they, in the name of that rehabilitation, present themselves as the natural custodians of his heritage?
The precedent of 2023 shows in any case that the Sankara family has not always accepted the choices made by those in power regarding this memory.
And that is where the ambiguity of the current narrative resides.
By repeatedly presenting itself as the bearer of Sankara’s torch, the government of Ibrahim Traoré risks shifting the memory of a man assassinated in 1987 towards another story: that of a contemporary power seeking to inscribe its own name in the continuity of the revolution.
Sankara left behind a body of work and a body of thought. Traoré is building his own power today. Between the two, the memory of Thomas Sankara has become a major political issue.








