This article explores the concept of citizen power in post-2024 Senegal, where the election of Bassirou Diomaye Faye marked a turning point. It examines the concept through three lenses: contemporary political philosophy (Pierre Rosanvallon, Cynthia Fleury, Achille Mbembe, Souleymane Bachir Diagne), Senegalese legal frameworks (2001 Constitution, 2024-2025 national dialogues, decentralization), and West African customary traditions (Wolof civic virtues like jom, kersa, ngor, and teranga, as well as deliberative institutions like penc and palabre). The first section traces the genealogy of the citizen figure from ancient Greece to contemporary Senegal, contrasting Western democratic trajectories with African pre-colonial forms of political belonging. The second section analyzes current crises in Senegalese citizen power and proposes hybrid refoundation strategies that integrate modern legal tools with traditional ethical and deliberative resources.

what is citizen power?

The 2024 Senegalese presidential election, which brought Bassirou Diomaye Faye to power with over 54% of the vote in the first round, was widely interpreted as a victory for “citizen power” reasserted after years of political tension. Two years into his term, the debate has shifted: while national dialogues have sought to reform the judiciary and political system, critics point to institutional setbacks, such as the abandonment of direct citizen access to the Constitutional Court—a provision initially included in the coalition’s 2024 program and recommended by the national dialogue. This gap between democratic promise and institutional reality raises a fundamental question: what constitutes citizen power in contemporary Senegal?

Citizen power is not merely about electoral participation or protest. It encompasses a citizen’s ability to participate in collective deliberation, hold institutions accountable, and embody civic virtues that sustain democracy. In Senegal, this concept must reconcile modern institutions with indigenous traditions, such as the penc (village assemblies) and Wolof ethical principles like jom (honor), kersa (dignity), ngor (integrity), and teranga (hospitality). The challenge is to create a governance model that is both legally robust and culturally rooted.

the historical roots of citizen power

western trajectories: from ancient Greece to modern democracy

The idea of citizen power has evolved through distinct historical phases. In ancient Greece, citizenship was defined by active participation in political life—voting, serving on juries, and debating public affairs. Aristotle’s Politics emphasizes that citizens are those who share in the exercise of political power, a model that excluded women, foreigners, and slaves but established a direct link between citizenship and political engagement. The Roman Empire later abstracted citizenship into a legal status, decoupling it from participation and creating a model of rights-bearing individuals rather than active citizens. This Roman legacy influenced modern liberal democracy, where citizenship became tied to rights rather than duties.

The French Revolution redefined citizenship by merging the rights-bearing individual with the collective sovereign. The 1789 Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen declared that “the law is the expression of the general will; all citizens have the right to participate in its formation,” either directly or through representatives. This synthesis of individual rights and collective sovereignty became a cornerstone of modern democracy. However, it also inherited contradictions: universal in principle but exclusionary in practice, as seen in the denial of voting rights to women and slaves in the colonies. Twentieth-century thinkers like T.H. Marshall expanded the concept further, adding social rights (to education, healthcare, and economic security) to the earlier civil and political rights. This layered model highlights citizenship as an ongoing process of inclusion, never fully achieved.

Pierre Rosanvallon’s work on “counter-democracy” offers another lens. He argues that modern democracies are not just about electing representatives but also about citizens exercising vigilance, veto power, and judgment through oversight, protest, and legal challenges. This “society of mistrust” complements electoral democracy by providing mechanisms for citizens to monitor and constrain power. However, Rosanvallon warns that unchecked counter-democracy can devolve into populism—a rejection of institutions rather than their reform. Cynthia Fleury deepens this analysis by focusing on the psychological dimensions of citizenship. She emphasizes individuation—the capacity of individuals to develop independent judgment—and the need for courage and resilience in democratic engagement. Fleury also highlights the dangers of resentment in societies fractured by inequality and exclusion, arguing that democratic renewal requires not just institutional reform but also symbolic recognition of citizens’ dignity.

african traditions: citizen power before colonialism

While Western political thought often frames citizenship as a modern concept, African societies developed sophisticated forms of political belonging long before colonization. The Wolof kingdoms of Senegal, for example, had institutions like the jambur, an assembly of free notables that could depose a king deemed unworthy. Power was not absolute but constrained by councils, religious authorities, and ethical norms. The penc (village assembly held under a central tree) exemplifies a deliberative tradition where decisions are reached through consensus, open debate, and prolonged discussion. Unlike the agonistic model of ancient Athens, which prioritized confrontation and rapid decision-making, the penc values harmony, inclusivity, and the quality of communal bonds. However, it is not without flaws: hierarchical structures based on age, gender, and caste can marginalize certain voices, and the slow pace of deliberation may hinder efficiency.

Wolof civic ethics provide another layer of insight. Virtues like jom (honor, courage, dignity), kersa (pudence, respect), ngor (integrity, keeping one’s word), teranga (hospitality, generosity), muñ (patience), and masla (tact, conciliation) shape how citizens engage with power and community. These virtues are not relics of the past but living resources that can inform contemporary governance. Thinkers like Achille Mbembe and Souleymane Bachir Diagne argue for an “lateral universality” that acknowledges the richness of African traditions while engaging with global political thought. Mbembe, in particular, critiques the post-colonial state’s failure to recognize African forms of political belonging and calls for a “politics of the common” that transcends both mimicry of Western models and reactionary identity politics.

These traditions challenge the assumption that democracy must be modeled on Western institutions. Instead, they suggest that citizen power can emerge from hybrid forms that blend modern legal frameworks with indigenous ethical and deliberative practices. The challenge for Senegal is to harness these traditions not as nostalgic symbols but as active resources for democratic renewal.

the crises of citizen power in contemporary Senegal

the paradox of counter-democracy

The years 2021-2024 in Senegal were marked by mass mobilizations against the postponement of the 2024 presidential election and the arrest of opposition leader Ousmane Sonko. These protests embodied Rosanvallon’s counter-democracy in action: vigilant citizens, veto power through sustained resistance, and judgment through public pressure. The election of Bassirou Diomaye Faye in March 2024 seemed to channel this energy into institutional renewal. Yet, two years later, the promise of citizen power faces significant challenges. The postponement crisis left deep scars: dozens of deaths in protests, extreme polarization, and a judiciary widely perceived as politicized. While the new administration has emphasized transparency and dialogue, critics argue that without institutional safeguards, counter-democracy risks becoming a permanent cycle of protest—a populist pathology rather than a constructive force.

Cynthia Fleury’s analysis of resentment is particularly relevant here. Senegal’s youth face unemployment rates of 20-30% among those under 35, while elites are often perceived as predatory. Diaspora communities feel humiliated by European migration policies, and many citizens harbor deep frustration toward a political class seen as corrupt and disconnected. This emotional landscape fueled the 2024 election but now threatens to undermine it if unaddressed. Fleury warns that resentment, if left unattended, can crystallize into cynicism and erode citizen power. Addressing this requires not just economic reforms but also symbolic gestures: recognition of victims of political violence, acknowledgment of women’s contributions to democracy, and a reckoning with historical injustices like slavery and colonialism. A truth and reconciliation commission, inspired by South Africa’s model but adapted to Senegalese traditions of jubbanti (reconciliation), could be a step toward healing.

the erosion of civic virtues

Another crisis lies in the weakening of traditional civic virtues that once sustained public life. Intellectuals like Mary Teuw Niane and Felwine Sarr have decried the decline of ngor (integrity), jom (honor), and kersa (dignity) in political discourse. This erosion manifests in opportunistic political switching (“transhumance politique”), everyday corruption, and the erosion of public trust in institutions. Yet, these virtues are not merely nostalgic ideals; they are practical resources for governance. Without shared ethical norms, formal institutions like constitutions or courts function in a vacuum. A reformed Constitution or an independent judiciary will not automatically produce a vibrant democracy if citizens lack the jom to hold power accountable, the kersa to engage in constructive debate, or the ngor to keep their commitments. Citizen power requires not just legal structures but also ethical dispositions.

institutional gaps and missed opportunities

The Senegalese Constitution of 2001 guarantees civil, political, and social rights, and the Constitutional Council has played a crucial role in upholding the rule of law—most notably by annulling the 2024 election postponement. However, the Constitution lacks a provision for direct citizen access to the Council. According to Article 74, only the President or a tenth of deputies can refer a law to the Council within six days of its adoption. This exclusion of ordinary citizens from constitutional oversight is a major gap. The 2024 program of the Diomaye Faye coalition explicitly called for a constitutional court with direct citizen access, and the 2025 national dialogue recommended it. Yet, the draft law published in 2026 omitted this provision, raising concerns that the promise of citizen power is being diluted in practice.

The third pillar of Senegal’s institutional framework is decentralization. The 2013 Act III of Decentralization reorganized local governance by elevating departments to local collectivities and transferring expanded powers to communes. While ambitious in principle, the reform has struggled in practice due to insufficient funding and a lack of participatory culture. Municipal councils often function as administrative bodies disconnected from citizens rather than spaces for deliberation. Yet, Senegal’s traditional deliberative institutions—penc, neighborhood assemblies (gokh), youth groups (mbootaay)—could revitalize local democracy if integrated into the formal framework. Experiments by NGOs and pioneering communes have shown the potential of such hybrid models, but they remain fragmented without public policy support. Revitalizing local democracy would require legally recognizing traditional deliberative spaces as mandatory consultative bodies for certain municipal decisions, providing communes with adequate budgets, training local officials in participatory governance, and establishing mechanisms for citizen audits and participatory budgets.

The national dialogues of 2024 (on justice) and 2025 (on the political system) represent an attempt to institutionalize inclusive deliberation. President Faye emphasized the need for “inclusive debate” and published draft laws to gather public feedback. This approach echoes the Wolof tradition of penc—deliberating in advance, seeking consensus, and ensuring public buy-in before decisions. However, the dialogues also reveal tensions. Participants have criticized the lack of transparency in how recommendations are synthesized and adopted. The omission of the recommendation on direct citizen access to the Constitutional Court is a case in point: if national dialogues are to have credibility, their recommendations must be faithfully incorporated into final legislation, with clear explanations for any deviations. Without such rigor, these dialogues risk becoming mere window dressing for predetermined reforms.

Other institutional mechanisms, such as the Court of Auditors, the National Office for the Fight against Fraud and Corruption (OFNAC), and the General State Inspectorate, have been strengthened under President Faye’s administration. These bodies are essential for the “sovereignty of surveillance” Rosanvallon describes. However, their effectiveness depends on independence, resources, and citizen access. Currently, their reports are often ignored, and citizens have no direct means to engage them. Establishing a unified digital platform for citizen complaints, with robust whistleblower protections, could enhance their accountability and legitimacy.

seven proposals for refounding citizen power in Senegal

Based on this analysis, seven interconnected proposals emerge to refound citizen power in Senegal. These proposals aim to bridge modern legal frameworks with traditional ethical and deliberative resources, creating a governance model that is both robust and culturally resonant.

1. institutionalize direct citizen access to the Constitutional Court

   Amend the Constitution to allow citizens to directly refer constitutional violations to the Court, subject to conditions such as exhausting ordinary remedies and demonstrating a serious legal interest. This would institutionalize the “people-as-judge” and give citizens a direct tool to hold power accountable. The precedent exists in other African countries like Benin and South Africa, where direct citizen access has strengthened constitutionalism. Senegal should follow suit to close a major gap in its democratic architecture.

2. legally recognize traditional deliberative spaces

   Formalize the role of penc, neighborhood assemblies (gokh), and youth/women’s groups (mbootaay) as mandatory consultative bodies for certain municipal decisions, such as urban planning, social programs, and natural resource management. These spaces should be documented, transmitted to authorities, and receive a reasoned response. This hybrid model would revitalize local democracy by integrating indigenous deliberative traditions with modern governance structures.

3. refound civic education on shared virtues

   Revitalize civic education by integrating Wolof civic virtues (jom, kersa, ngor, teranga, muñ, masla, sago) into school curricula. This should be paired with teacher training, development of pedagogical materials, and student-led initiatives like mediation councils or civic projects. The goal is to cultivate ethical dispositions that sustain democratic engagement, blending universal political philosophy with Senegalese traditions.

4. strengthen and democratize oversight institutions

   Grant constitutional autonomy to bodies like the Court of Auditors and OFNAC, ensuring their independence through transparent appointment processes, fixed terms, and budgetary autonomy. Establish mechanisms for direct citizen access, such as a unified digital platform for complaints and whistleblower protections. Publish their reports systematically and track their implementation in parliament and public forums. This would transform oversight institutions from symbolic bodies into effective tools of citizen power.

5. institutionalize national dialogues with procedural rigor

   Adopt a public charter governing national dialogues, specifying participant selection (including quotas for randomly selected citizens), deliberation rules, synthesis processes, and the obligation to publicly explain any gaps between recommendations and final legislation. This transparency is crucial to prevent dialogues from becoming mere legitimizing rituals. The spirit of masla (tactful conciliation) should guide these procedures, ensuring that conflicts are addressed without erasing real disagreements.

6. cultivate a politics of democratic care

   Complement economic and social policies with symbolic gestures of recognition. Establish a truth and reconciliation commission to acknowledge victims of political violence, recognize women’s contributions to democracy, and address historical injustices. This would address the resentment Fleury identifies, transforming it from a destructive force into an energy for democratic renewal. The commission should draw on Senegalese traditions like jubbanti (reconciliation) to foster healing and social cohesion.

7. revitalize decentralization with participatory tools

   Mandate participatory budgets (e.g., allocating 10-20% of municipal budgets to citizen proposals) and annual citizen audits of municipal accounts. Hold public general assemblies where local executives report on their actions and respond to citizen questions. These tools, adapted from international models like Porto Alegre and Kerala, would transform citizens from passive subjects into co-managers of public affairs, embodying the sovereignty of surveillance in practice.

lessons from Africa and beyond

Senegal can draw inspiration from other African and international experiences while avoiding the pitfalls of imitation. South Africa’s 1996 Constitution, which grants direct citizen access to the Constitutional Court, offers a compelling model. Combined with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, it laid the groundwork for a post-apartheid civic renewal, though recent challenges like corruption and inequality show the fragility of such gains. Tunisia’s 2011-2014 Constituent Assembly demonstrated how inclusive deliberation could produce a high-quality constitution, only for democratic backsliding in 2021-2024 to reverse these gains. The lesson is clear: institutional refoundation must be paired with vigilant citizen engagement to endure. Benin’s 1990 National Conference, a model for many African transitions, was followed by democratic erosion in the 2010s, underscoring the need for robust institutions of vigilance. France’s 2019-2020 Citizens’ Convention for the Climate illustrated the potential of deliberation with randomly selected citizens, as well as the challenge of translating recommendations into political action. The key insight is that deliberative devices are only as effective as the institutional commitment to implement their conclusions.

Senegal can synthesize these lessons into a model uniquely its own—one that integrates its modern institutional framework, its deliberative traditions, and its ethical resources. The goal is not to replicate any single model but to create a hybrid system that reflects Senegal’s historical depth and contemporary aspirations.

addressing objections and embracing complexity

This analysis invites several potential objections. First, critics might accuse it of romanticizing traditional virtues and deliberative institutions, ignoring their hierarchical and exclusionary dimensions. This critique is valid: Wolof civic ethics and penc are not pristine ideals but living traditions that must be critically reappropriated, stripped of their exclusionary aspects, and aligned with contemporary values of equality and pluralism. The second objection, from institutionalists, might argue that only formal legal frameworks matter, rendering traditional ethics irrelevant. This view underestimates the cultural dimensions of democracy—no institution works without a supportive culture, and Senegal’s civic virtues are part of the lived imagination of its people. Ignoring them would be to discard a powerful symbolic resource. A third objection, from eurocentrists, might criticize the use of Western thinkers like Rosanvallon and Fleury to analyze an African reality. This critique assumes a hierarchy of knowledge that is rejected here. Instead, these thinkers are used in an “lateral universality”—a dialogue where all traditions are enriched by mutual engagement without subordination. Rosanvallon’s framework helps illuminate counter-democracy in Senegal, while Senegalese traditions can deepen Rosanvallon’s understanding of civic engagement. Finally, realists might dismiss these proposals as naive in the face of entrenched power structures and economic constraints. While this objection has merit, the role of critical thought is not to resign itself to the possible but to expand the horizons of the conceivable. Without such horizons, realism becomes cynicism.

conclusion: cultivating citizen power in Senegal

Citizen power is an irreducible plural concept. It draws on the participatory legacy of ancient Greece, the legal status of Rome, the revolutionary synthesis of sovereignty, Marshall’s social protections, Rosanvallon’s counter-democracy, Fleury’s political subjectivity, and the ethical and deliberative traditions of West Africa. In Senegal today, the 2024 alternation has rekindled civic hope. National dialogues, transparency initiatives, and constitutional debates signal a political will for refoundation. Yet, this will is tested by critical choices: Will direct citizen access to the Constitutional Court be enshrined in law? Will decentralization be endowed with the means to fulfill its ambitions? Will oversight bodies gain real independence? Will traditional civic virtues be reappropriated as democratic resources, or remain folkloric relics? Will the resentment that fueled change be transformed into constructive democratic energy, or fester into cynicism?

The answers to these questions depend not only on policymakers but on citizens themselves—on individuals who, through jom, speak truth to power despite the risks; who, through kersa, temper their outrage to make it heard; who, through ngor, keep their commitments even when power beckons; and who, through masla, seek conciliation without abandoning justice. Citizen power is not a given; it is a fragile historical product that must be cultivated or risk being lost. The intellectual work, of which this article is a modest contribution, is to provide frameworks for understanding this dynamic and proposals for steering it. The political work belongs to citizens themselves: to reclaim their dignity, their voice, and their agency in shaping the Senegalese future.