Here’s a shocking truth: coups are making a dangerous comeback in Africa, and the very institutions meant to stop them might be accidentally fueling the fire. The African Union (AU) and regional bodies, despite their good intentions, are inadvertently making coup-making profitable again. But how? Let’s dive into the details, because this is where it gets controversial.
Since 2020, the rise in coups isn’t just about the so-called 'contagion effect.' It’s also tied to a troubling shift in policy by the AU and regional bodies. These organizations, designed to deter military takeovers, have unintentionally lowered the risks and costs associated with staging a coup. Worse, they’ve reopened the door to the ultimate prize for coup leaders: being recognized as legitimate rulers. And this is the part most people miss—the AU’s anti-coup framework, which includes the Lomé Declaration, the Constitutive Act, the Summit Decision, the Accra Declaration, and the African Charter on Democracy, Elections, and Governance (ACDEG), was explicitly created to make coups unprofitable. On paper, these documents outlaw coups, mandate suspensions, and impose sanctions. For instance, ACDEG’s Article 25(4) bars coup leaders from running in elections meant to restore constitutional order, while Article 25(5) criminalizes coup-making under AU law. Together, these provisions were supposed to send a clear message: even if a coup succeeds, there’s no path to legitimizing power through elections.
But here’s where it gets messy. Despite the AU’s declared zero-tolerance policy for unconstitutional changes of government, its actions tell a different story. In practice, the AU has applied its policies selectively and, as one analysis puts it, shown ‘a tendency of laxity in enforcing ACDEG’s Article 25(4) norm.’ This inconsistency has turned the anti-coup norm from a bright red line into a negotiable constraint. Once that happens, militaries start viewing the norm not as a strict prohibition but as a manageable risk—one they can bargain their way out of.
Take Chad, for example. When Idriss Déby died in April 2021, a Transitional Military Council installed his son, Mahamat Idriss Déby, in a move that clearly met the criteria for an unconstitutional change of government. Instead of suspending Chad from the AU, the Peace and Security Council (PSC) granted it ‘exceptional treatment,’ citing Chad’s role as a counter-terrorism partner. Even more troubling, the PSC failed to enforce its own decision when Mahamat Idriss Déby ran—and won—the 2024 presidential election. This set a dangerous precedent, signaling to other coup leaders that the AU might turn a blind eye if they hold elections quickly.
Gabon followed suit, turning this crack into a pattern. After Brice Oligui Nguema’s 2023 coup, the AU initially suspended Gabon but later lifted the suspension when Nguema won the 2025 presidential election with a staggering 90% of the vote. This directly contradicted ACDEG’s Article 25(4), which was meant to prevent such scenarios. The message was clear: even if you’re suspended, you can still turn a coup into a continentally recognized electoral victory.
Guinea’s recent trajectory reinforces this troubling trend. After the 2021 coup, the country embarked on a prolonged transition, with a constitutional referendum that allows junta members to run in elections and extends presidential terms. This paves the way for coup leader Mamadi Doumbouya to seek the presidency under rules his regime has crafted. If the precedents in Chad and Gabon hold, it’s hard to see how Guinea won’t follow the same path.
This normative slippage has significant implications. While the AU continues to reiterate its zero-tolerance policy in communiqués, its repeated failure to enforce Article 25(4) in practice tells a different story. Each time the PSC validates elections involving coup leaders or lifts suspensions without addressing breaches of Article 25(4), it tacitly rewrites the rule. The norm survives in legal texts but is erased in concrete decisions, turning zero tolerance into more of a comforting narrative than a binding commitment.
For militaries and political elites, the lesson is clear: the risks of staging a coup are decreasing. As Gabon showed, holding elections can rectify the stigma of being a coup maker. And as Chad demonstrated, even suspension and ineligibility for elections might be set aside if you’re lucky.
Reversing this trend requires the AU and PSC to realign their actions with their principles. They must close the gap between their rhetoric and their practice, starting by publicly reaffirming Article 25(4) and reasserting themselves as guardians of the continental normative framework. Additionally, the AU must take a firmer stance against ‘constitutional coups,’ such as term-limit manipulation and election rigging, to ensure military actors aren’t seen as corrective forces.
But here’s the question: Can the AU truly enforce its anti-coup norms, or is it already too late? What do you think? Is the AU’s zero-tolerance policy still credible, or has it become a hollow promise? Let’s discuss in the comments—your perspective matters.
