The CFPD and Domol Leydi: a power struggle that now demands answers
Behind the security apparatus, a fierce contest over manpower, money and control of the state machinery is unfolding in Niger. A signed decree. Potentially billions of CFA francs on the table. A new defense architecture. Shuffled responsibilities. Then another mobilization mechanism emerges. Taken separately, these events can be dismissed as routine administrative or military decisions. Taken together, they raise a far more sensitive question: who really controls the men, the resources and the levers of national defense in Niger? The fallout is already reshaping public debate and forcing a reckoning over what comes next.
At the heart of the matter: three men and a decree
Three major figures of the ruling power are caught up in this tangle: General Abdourahamane Tiani, General Salifou Mody and former Prime Minister Lamine Zeine. At the center sits the Commandement des Forces de Protection et de Développement (CFPD) and, more recently, the community self-defense groups known as “Domol Leydi.” But behind these two mechanisms lies a third, less visible yet decisive issue: money.
First turn: a decree that changes the equation
On May 9, 2024, decree No. 2024-309/P/CNSP/MDN created the Commandement des Forces de Protection et de Développement. The measure was no symbolic gesture. It was designed to help protect mining and oil sites, strategic infrastructure, corridors and several development projects. The Agence Nigérienne de Presse at the time presented the CFPD as an instrument meant to secure extractive resources, the WAPCO pipeline, CNPC-NP, SORAZ and strategic corridors. The decree also laid out a specific financial mechanism. And that is where the dossier takes on a new dimension. A military force does not run on men and orders alone. It requires equipment, transport, food, logistics, maintenance and, above all, regular funding. The text organizes precisely that machinery.
Second turn: the 12,000 FCFA that opens the door to a 20 billion equation
Article 28 of the decree provides that corporate contributions are collected on the basis of contracts signed with the state, and that a Prime Unique d’Astreinte is paid to the CFPD according to actual troop numbers. The minimum value indicated is 12,000 FCFA per man per day. The text also details several components of this envelope: daily duty allowance, food, hygiene, operations and maintenance. Based on a hypothetical 5,000 men, the order of magnitude reaches about 60 million FCFA per day, or nearly 1.8 billion per month and around 21.9 billion over a year. But one clarification is essential: this is a projection calculated from the theoretical headcount and the mechanism provided by the text, not proof that such a sum was actually collected. That is precisely what makes the inquiry necessary. The real question is not only “how much could the mechanism generate?” It is far more precise: How much was actually committed? How much was paid? For how many men? For what missions? And to which beneficiaries?
Third turn: the CFPD is very much a reality
It would be too simple, however, to present the CFPD as an abandoned structure. In 2026, Defense Minister Salifou Mody publicly stated that personnel from the Force de Protection et de Développement were engaged in securing economic installations, notably at posts linked to the pipeline. The problem is therefore more complex. The CFPD exists. It is officially integrated into the defense architecture. It carries out certain missions. But another question remains: does its actual functioning fully match the architecture, the troop numbers and the financial mechanism originally planned? This is where administrative and financial documents become essential. Between planned and actually deployed troops, between theoretically available sums and sums actually paid, there can be a considerable gap. And that gap must be documented.
Fourth turn: who controls the financial chain?
According to information reported in this case, CFPD funding was at the heart of tensions between different power centers. A particularly sensitive piece of information attributes to President Tiani an instruction aimed at not implementing certain financial provisions of the mechanism. At this stage, no public document consulted allows this instruction to be formally established. But if confirmed, the scope of the affair would go far beyond a mere administrative difficulty. It would raise a major institutional question: how can a mechanism created by decree function when some of its financial provisions are deliberately prevented or delayed? The question is all the more important because the decree itself organizes the CFPD’s resources and their use.
Fifth turn: the Finance Ministry at the center of the problem
The alleged conflict then takes on a broader dimension. On one side, Defense seeks the means necessary for its missions. On the other, the finance ministry must control public resources and their use. Above both sits the political authority that arbitrates. It is this articulation that must be examined. For in a highly centralized defense system, controlling resources also means controlling operational capacity. Whoever controls the credits controls part of the means. Whoever controls the troops controls another part of the power. And whoever arbitrates between the two holds the ultimate lever.
Sixth turn: Zeine loses Finance but keeps the Prime Ministry
In January 2026, Lamine Zeine lost the Economy and Finance portfolio while retaining the Prime Ministry. This change deserves attention. It alters the distribution of levers without necessarily changing the overall political balance. The question then becomes: why strip Zeine of direct control over finances while keeping him at the head of government? According to information reported in this case, General Mody subsequently considered taking the head of government, with the possibility of combining it with Defense. This information is not established by the public documents consulted. But if confirmed, it would reveal a much deeper issue: the concentration in the same hands of the two main levers of state power — Defense and the Prime Ministry.
Seventh turn: Domol Leydi enters the scene
Then comes a new stage. In late 2025, Niger adopted an ordinance instituting general mobilization. The authorities present it as a mechanism to enable the transition from a state of peace to a state of war and to mobilize the human, material and financial resources needed to defend the homeland. Within this framework, community self-defense organizations called “Domol Leydi” appear. The Defense Minister himself explained in April 2026 that these organizations must work under the control and supervision of the Defense and Security Forces. The mechanism thus officially responds to a security logic. But its emergence raises a strategic question: why multiply mobilization and protection mechanisms when a specialized command like the CFPD already exists? The missions are not identical. The CFPD is a military structure tasked notably with protecting strategic interests. Domol Leydi is more about territorial mobilization and community self-defense. But the two mechanisms meet on common ground: men, security, resources and the chain of command.
Eighth turn: the real problem is the boundaries between the mechanisms
From there, one question becomes unavoidable: where does the CFPD’s role end and Domol Leydi’s begin? Who recruits? Who trains? Who equips? Who funds? Who gives orders? Who controls the men? And above all, who answers politically and legally when something goes wrong? These questions are not secondary. The more a state multiplies structures operating in the security domain, the more essential the clarity of the chain of command becomes. Sovereignty is not measured solely by the number of soldiers mobilized. It is also measured by the state’s ability to know who commands whom, with what means and under what control.
Ninth turn: the mystery of troop numbers
This may be one of the keys to the case. The CFPD’s financial mechanism is calculated according to actual troop numbers. That means an apparently technical question becomes politically fundamental: how many men were actually deployed and how many actually generated expenses under the mechanism? The answer should be found in administrative documents: troop rosters, mission orders, attendance sheets, security contracts, expenditure commitments, payment orders, execution reports. Without these documents, the billions remain projections. With them, it becomes possible to precisely reconstruct the financial reality of the mechanism.
Tenth turn: who controls the contracts?
The decree provides that corporate contributions rest on contracts established between these companies and the state. This provision opens another avenue of investigation. Which companies signed these contracts? What amounts were agreed? What security services were planned? How many personnel were to be assigned to each site? Were the services actually performed? Were the corresponding sums fully paid? And above all: which administration ensures control of this financial chain? These answers would determine whether the affair is a simple operational problem or a much more serious dysfunction.
Eleventh turn: when security also becomes a question of power
At this stage, the case ceases to be a mere matter of decree. It touches the very structure of power. The CFPD concentrates men and missions. Companies can contribute to its funding under the planned mechanism. The Defense Ministry supervises the operational dimension. Finance necessarily intervenes in the public resource chain. The Prime Ministry constitutes another coordination center. And the presidency retains supreme political authority. In other words, several essential levers intersect around a single mechanism. That is precisely what makes any opacity worrying.
Twelfth turn: high treason cannot be treated lightly
The term “high treason” is extremely heavy. It cannot simply be used to describe a political conflict or a bad administrative decision. Nigerien law has historically associated this notion with particularly serious attacks on the fundamental interests of the state. The 2010 Constitution, for example, referred notably to breach of oath, certain grave human rights violations, fraudulent cession of part of the territory or compromising national interests in the management of natural resources. The current institutional situation must, however, be assessed in light of the Charter of Refoundation, which is now the fundamental text governing public authorities during this period. Therefore, the journalistic issue is not to declare that “high treason” is already established. The real question is more demanding: if public officials knowingly diverted, paralyzed or manipulated a strategic defense mechanism for personal or factional interests, what legal and institutional consequences could ensue? This question can only be settled by evidence.
Thirteenth turn: the most sensitive scenario would be the instrumentalization of defense resources
Here lies the heart of the affair. A state facing a major security threat creates a mechanism to protect its strategic resources. A financial mechanism is planned. Troops are to be mobilized. Companies are called upon to contribute. If, at the same time, personal or institutional rivalries were to determine who receives the means, who controls them or who can prevent their implementation, then the problem would no longer be merely administrative. It would directly touch the governance of national defense. But this hypothesis has yet to be demonstrated. It requires documents, corroborating testimonies and financial traceability.
Fourteenth turn: figures will speak louder than speeches
The authorities can talk about sovereignty. Military officials can talk about mobilization. Press releases can talk about security. But the documents will tell another story, that of expenses actually incurred. It will therefore be necessary to compare: announced versus actual troop numbers; planned versus executed missions; theoretical amounts versus actual payments; signed contracts versus services actually provided; announced structures versus their actual functioning. It is this confrontation that will determine the real scale of the case.
The question that remains
The CFPD-Domol Leydi affair does not, by itself, establish an accusation of high treason. But it raises enough questions to justify a thorough examination of the chain of command, troop numbers, contracts and above all financial flows. For when a defense mechanism is associated with potentially considerable resources, the issue cannot be solely about who commands the men. It is also about knowing: who controls the money; who controls the contracts; who verifies troop numbers; who controls the services; who can block or unblock resources; and who is ultimately accountable for their use. That is perhaps the true knot of the affair. And if documentary evidence were to show that private interests had indeed taken precedence over the interests of national defense, the question would no longer be a simple tug-of-war between officials. It would become a matter of state. For in national defense, diverting resources, manipulating structures or deliberately neutralizing a strategic mechanism would not be a mere power quarrel: it would potentially be a grave attack on the fundamental interests of the Nation. For now, established facts, source claims and hypotheses must be carefully distinguished. But one thing is certain: the only way to lift the veil on this affair will be to follow the men, the orders, the contracts and above all the money.
