The Story of a Country That Was Happy Not to Be Mentioned
In the early hours of December 7, Benin briefly joined the long list of West African coups. A group of National Guard soldiers, led by Lieutenant Colonel Pascal Tigri, stormed state television in Cotonou, held journalists at gunpoint on air, and announced that they had overthrown President Patrice Talon. They proclaimed themselves the “Military Committee for Refoundation,” suspended the constitution, dissolved state institutions, and closed the borders. But unlike in Mali, Niger, or Burkina Faso, their attempt lasted only a few hours.
At dawn, the rebels attacked the presidential residence and several military sites in Cotonou, seized the television station, and reportedly temporarily neutralized the army’s chief of staff. In their proclamation, they accused Talon’s government of clientelism, neglecting the army—especially fallen soldiers and their families—cutting healthcare, raising taxes, and crushing political competition. This was not a classic coup staged by power-hungry generals, but more an uprising of middle-ranking officers invoking social justice and the security chaos in the country’s north, where a jihadist insurgency has been spreading for several years.
By late morning, however, it became clear that there would be no mass defection of the military to the rebels’ side. Loyal units managed to encircle key points in Cotonou, and the signal of state television and radio was soon cut. The key turning point came from outside (as could be expected in such a situation): ECOWAS activated its “standby force,” and Nigeria—regional powerhouse and current chair of the organization—sent fighter jets over Benin, struck the camp in Togbin where the rebels were trying to regroup, and then deployed infantry. Working with Beninese forces, which largely did not side with the coup plotters, they retook the occupied positions, and by evening the government announced that the coup had been crushed.
Talon appeared on television, praised the loyal forces, thanked Nigeria and neighboring countries, and warned that “treason will not go unpunished.” By the morning of December 8, authorities mentioned 14 arrested soldiers and one former serviceman, while Tigri himself was reportedly on the run. The number of victims still has not been officially announced, though the president spoke of “victims of this senseless undertaking,” suggesting that there were wounded and perhaps dead. But the government clearly wants to emphasize the speed of normalization and avoid showing bloody scenes, if any occurred.
Why did a coup even appear in a country that for years was considered an “oasis of stability” in francophone Africa? The answer is a combination of internal discontent and regional context. Talon, a former cotton magnate, came to power in 2016 with an agenda of modernization and liberal economic reforms that, as expected, delighted the World Bank and IMF but for much of the population meant privatization, fiscal austerity, and rising inequality (a story seen countless times, especially in Africa). In recent years, political tightening has followed: the opposition was excluded from the 2019 parliamentary elections, key opponents are in exile or in prison, and the 2021 presidential election was held without real competition.
On top of that, the end of 2025 will bring a constitutional reform extending presidential terms from 5 to 7 years and introducing a Senate where former presidents will sit—practically a lifelong political safeguard for Talon after he leaves office. The main opposition candidate for the 2026 elections has been disqualified on formal grounds, while Talon’s finance minister has been promoted as the favorite. Meanwhile, discontent has been simmering within the military for some time. The country’s north suffers increasingly frequent attacks by Islamist groups coming from Burkina Faso and Niger; soldiers are dying in remote areas, their families receive inadequate support, and the public knows little about the true scale of the conflict.
To understand the gravity of the situation, we need to recall some history. Benin—until 1975 the Republic of Dahomey—fell into near-permanent crisis after gaining independence from France in 1960 under its first president Hubert Maga. Between 1960 and 1972, governments changed constantly, three charismatic regional leaders fought for dominance, and military coups followed one after another. The country then earned the nickname “the sick child of West Africa.” Only the 1972 coup led by Major Mathieu Kérékou ended this cycle and ushered in a long period of one-man rule.
From 1974 onward, Kérékou formally declared Marxism-Leninism, renamed the country the People’s Republic of Benin, introduced a one-party system, and nationalized key sectors. In the Cold War context, he relied on the Soviet Union, China, Cuba, and other socialist countries, as well as on strong anti-imperialist rhetoric, especially after the failed invasion by foreign mercenaries in 1977. Interestingly—and not uniquely in Africa—this “communist” period, authoritarian but relatively stable, created a strong centralized state, an educated bureaucracy, and even a certain sense of social welfare, in contrast to the earlier chaos.
When the model collapsed economically in the late 1980s (along with global changes and the fall of the USSR), Kérékou became one of the few African leaders to agree to a National Conference in 1990. It effectively stripped him of power, introduced multiparty democracy and a new constitution, and in 1991 he peacefully handed over office to the elected president Nicéphore Soglo. What followed were about three decades of relatively peaceful elections and transfers of power: Kérékou even returned through elections in 1996, then again left in 2006 due to term limits. That continuity created the myth of Benin as a “model pupil of democracy,” a country that navigated the transition well (better than we did, certainly), especially compared to its neighbors.
The economic picture, however, remains that of a poor country with strong growth but a low starting point. GDP per capita today is around $1,500 a year, and Benin is still on the list of least developed countries. More than a third of the population lives in poverty, especially in the rural north. Agriculture employs most people, with cotton as the key export bringing in a large share of foreign earnings. In addition to cotton, the country exports cashew nuts, palm oil, cocoa, pineapples… Industry is modest, and services—mainly trade and transport—account for more than half of GDP.
Benin does not have major resources like Nigeria’s oil or Niger’s uranium. There is a small amount of offshore oil, but without serious production. Limestone and marble are mined for cement; there are some phosphates, deposits of low-quality iron ore deep inland, and limited gold potential currently under small-scale exploration. This is somewhat of a “blessing,” especially given how resource-rich countries often fare. Benin is a country that has avoided the classic “resource curse” (a magnet for neo-colonialism, as in DR Congo and elsewhere), but must work hard to develop without such advantages. At the same time, dependence on cotton and on the transit of goods to Nigeria makes it extremely vulnerable to external shocks.
If we ask whose “sphere of influence” Benin belongs to, the answer is complex. Formally, it is part of the francophone zone—it uses the CFA franc pegged to the euro; its legal and educational institutions are inherited from France; cultural ties are deep; and French companies are present in ports and energy. It is no coincidence that Talon temporarily took shelter in the French embassy during the coup attempt. At the same time, Washington sees Benin as a “success story” and a partner in the Millennium Challenge program*, while Beijing is quietly expanding its influence through infrastructure, trade, and industrial zones.
*The Millennium Challenge, or Millennium Challenge Corporation (MCC), is a U.S. government agency established in 2004 that provides large development grants to “good performers”—Global South countries that meet criteria for democracy, rule of law, anti-corruption, and macroeconomic stability. Instead of scattered aid, MCC signs multi-year “compact” agreements worth hundreds of millions of dollars for concrete infrastructure projects (electricity, ports, roads, water), institutional reforms, and investment climate improvements, with strict monitoring and the possibility of termination if political or democratic standards regress.
In military-security terms, however, perhaps even more important is the informal sphere of Nigeria and ECOWAS. President Tinubu’s decision to send Nigerian aircraft and troops into Benin to “clean up” the coup plotters shows a clear balance of power. Benin (about 13 million people), a small coastal state between Togo (9.7 million) and giant Nigeria (233 million), knows that its survival depends on the goodwill of its neighbor and the regional shield. But this “protection of democracy” comes at a price—on one hand the army prevents a coup, yet on the other the same structures quietly watch as civic space shrinks and elections become rituals to confirm decisions already made.
Relations with neighbors further explain the dynamics of the uprising. To the east, Nigeria is Benin’s key economic lifeline. The port of Cotonou survives on formal and informal trade with Lagos—cars, rice, and fuel crossing the border (often illegally). When Abuja unilaterally closed the border in 2019, thousands of Beninese traders and smugglers lost their income. To the north, with Burkina Faso and Niger, Benin shares not only rivers and national parks but also a new front against jihadists. It is in these border zones that Beninese soldiers—whom Tigri invoked in his proclamation—are dying.
Interestingly, Niger itself has become a source of diplomatic tension after its 2023 military coup. Benin, loyal to ECOWAS, joined sanctions and closed its border, worsening life on both sides. Neighboring Burkina Faso, under military rule, is also less inclined to cooperate with “pro-Western” Cotonou, though objectively both face the same problem—the spread of armed groups. With Togo, with which it shares ethnic and historical ties, relations are calm, with occasional rivalry between the ports of Cotonou and Lomé.
Amid all this geopolitics, one should not forget that Benin is also a country of rich culture—the cradle of the vodun religion, home to the ancient Kingdom of Dahomey whose sculptures were recently returned from Parisian museums, and a society with more than 40 ethnic groups, among whom large interethnic conflicts are relatively rare compared to many other states in the region. It is precisely this combination of cultural vibrancy, the absence of major resources, and the experience of both socialism and liberal capitalism that makes Benin an intriguing mirror of broader African dilemmas.
The coup attempt this weekend therefore came as a surprise to many and confirmed that the situation is no longer stable even here (largely, as mentioned, due to the conflict in the north). The rebellious soldiers did not offer a more progressive vision of society, but their action revealed that beneath the surface of GDP growth and praise from international financial institutions, frustrations are accumulating—from neglected provinces hit by jihadists to impoverished citizens who do not recognize themselves in “reforms.” What Benin looks like after this will depend less on ECOWAS fighter jets and more on whether the political elite dares to pursue real social change instead of ever more sophisticated mechanisms for preserving power.
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