The unfolding events in Senegal represent more than just a disagreement between two prominent figures. They signify a fundamental confrontation between two distinct forms of legitimacy: institutional authority and charismatic influence. This inherent tension, throughout contemporary political history, frequently gives rise to a phenomenon well-understood in political theory: hubris.
From this perspective, Ousmane Sonko’s political journey warrants an objective and dispassionate examination. Sonko ascended politically by harnessing an unprecedented energy of rupture in Senegal’s recent history. He became the voice of a marginalized youth, challenged a political establishment widely perceived as entrenched, and introduced a new political lexicon rooted in national sovereignty, dignity, and the restoration of the people as central actors.
He had previously envisioned a “soft cohabitation” with the presidential palace. His subsequent election as President of the National Assembly, merely days after his dismissal as Prime Minister, presents him with an opportunity to implement this vision.
The sequence of political maneuvers leading to his election was remarkably swift. On May 22, President Bassirou Diomaye Faye removed Ousmane Sonko from his position as Prime Minister. The very next day, May 23, Malick Ndiaye, then President of the National Assembly, strategically tendered his resignation, vacating the leadership post. By May 25, Ahmadou Alhaminou Mohamed Lô was appointed as the new Prime Minister. Then, on May 26, Ousmane Sonko was overwhelmingly elected President of the National Assembly, a clear indication that he maintains leadership of Pastef, the majority party he founded. Out of 165 deputies, the Pastef leader secured a commanding 132 votes.
Hailed by some as a “historic election” and denounced by others as an “institutional coup,” this outcome positions the former Prime Minister as the primary political adversary of his erstwhile ally, President Bassirou Diomaye Faye, with whom he previously formed a contentious dyarchy.
Several pressing questions now emerge. Will Pastef, which voted unanimously to elect Sonko to lead the National Assembly, agree to support—or even join—the new government that the highly technocratic new Prime Minister is tasked with forming?
The presidential party has reportedly outlined its conditions, including “fidelity to the program that led to the 2024 victory.” This implicitly refers to the political agenda originally crafted by Ousmane Sonko.
Sonko himself has sent mixed signals: while appearing to advocate for institutional appeasement, he also delivered a unequivocal message to his former presidential ally. The National Assembly, he cautioned, will exercise “its constitutional prerogatives to the fullest.” He also voiced regret that Pastef was not consulted on the appointment of the new Prime Minister.
Amidst this institutional turbulence, the country’s sovereign rating has reportedly shifted from “stable” to “negative.”
This political force is undeniable and has profoundly reshaped the national landscape. However, every charismatic leadership carries an inherent paradox: while it effectively mobilizes support through a powerful figure, it can simultaneously undermine the impersonal mechanisms essential for institutional democracy.
Popular or constitutional legitimacy?
When activists begin to perceive one individual as the sole architect of a “revolution,” when the fate of a collective endeavor appears to rest on a single personality, and when the line between political loyalty and personal allegiance blurs, the risk of hubris emerges. This is not merely an individual failing but a structural phenomenon. The current crisis appears to precisely expose this contradiction.
For months, Senegal navigated a peculiar political ambiguity: who truly held the reins of power? Was it the elected president, Bassirou Diomaye Faye, or the historical leader of the Pastef project, Ousmane Sonko, who founded the African Patriots of Senegal for Work, Ethics, and Fraternity party? Was it the legitimacy derived from the ballot box or the legitimacy born of militant support? Constitutional authority or charismatic authority?
This duality was likely unsustainable in the long term. In any democracy, there comes a point where institutions must assert their primacy. A state cannot function indefinitely with two symbolic centers of command. Crucially, Sonko’s influence was not limited to his role as Prime Minister. It primarily stemmed from his ability to simultaneously act as head of government, movement leader, militant touchstone, and the emotional embodiment of a significant segment of Senegalese youth.
It is precisely at this juncture that the hubristic risk arises: when a leader tends to occupy the spheres of the state, the people, and the movement all at once. The paradox is that this situation does not necessarily threaten democracy through overt brutality. Instead, it can weaken it more subtly, by compelling institutions to recede before the symbolic weight of a political personality.
Political parties largely remain structured around central figures. The Parliament continues to struggle to establish itself as a truly autonomous counter-power. While institutions do offer resistance, they remain vulnerable to the emotional potency of dominant political figures.
“A test of truth”
Therefore, the crucial question today is not moral, but institutional. Can Ousmane Sonko accept that institutional legitimacy must now take precedence over charismatic legitimacy? Can he agree that the project he helped initiate should progressively cease to be exclusively his own? Can he transition from being merely the driving force of a historic protest to an actor among others within an institutional order designed to endure beyond individual leaders?
This is arguably the most formidable challenge for all great transformative leaders. African political history abounds with movements that triumphed in opposition only to grapple with the more intricate demands of state governance. Governing requires different skills than mobilizing. It necessitates making difficult choices, accepting compromises, respecting institutional hierarchies, and sometimes even embracing a degree of personal effacement for the sake of state continuity.
The true measure of a leader’s greatness is not solely in their capacity to seize power. It is also in their willingness to accept the limitations imposed by institutional democracy. Senegal may well be entering this decisive test of truth today.
The manner in which this fundamental tension is managed will determine not only the future of the Pastef project but also a significant aspect of the nation’s democratic stability.
