Few truths in Senegalese politics have become as undeniable as this: alliances today are defined by fluidity. Yet this phenomenon is not entirely new. The practice of shifting allegiances and forming cross-ideological coalitions predates the 2000 political transition. What changed after Abdou Diouf’s era was the scale, visibility, and direct relationship to power. While the Socialist Party (PS) remained dominant under Diouf, his final years in office were marked by deep internal fractures. Prominent PS figure Djibo Ka broke ranks, and socialist dissidents established the Movement for Renewal in March 1998, which later became a key pillar of the Union for Democratic Renewal (URD). In the May 24, 1998 legislative elections, the URD secured 13% of the vote and 11 of 140 seats. Just weeks later, on June 16, 1999, Moustapha Niasse—a leading socialist—announced his departure from the PS. The AFP was founded in July 1999 and legally recognized on August 23 of the same year. These departures were pivotal: they signaled the end of the PS’s monolithic grip on power ahead of the 2000 presidential election.
1999–2000: The first major realignments
The 2000 presidential election served as the testing ground for this new political reality. In the first round on February 27, 2000, Abdou Diouf won 41.3%, Abdoulaye Wade took 31%, Moustapha Niasse 16.8%, and Djibo Ka 7.1%. By the second round on March 19, Niasse had joined Wade’s camp, while Djibo Ka, after initially backing Wade, ultimately threw his support behind Diouf. Wade won with 58.5%, ending 40 years of socialist rule. This election laid bare a defining feature of contemporary Senegalese politics: the boundaries between rivals, allies, and former comrades had become far more permeable.
The arrival of Wade in power accelerated the trend. He did not govern solely with the PDS at his side. His first government, formed in April 2000, included figures from multiple political backgrounds: the AFP of Moustapha Niasse, the PIT, AJ/PADS, and other components of the alternance coalition, many with ideological backgrounds far removed from PDS liberalism. Niasse was named Prime Minister on April 5, 2000, only to be dismissed on March 3, 2001. In the April 29, 2001 legislative elections, the Sopi coalition—dominated by the PDS—won 89 of 120 seats, while the PS collapsed to just 10 seats. The AFP took 11, the URD secured 3, and And-Jëf won 2. Power had not only changed hands; it had reshaped the entire political landscape.
It was in the wake of the 2000 transition that the term “political transhumance” entered the national lexicon. Local officials, political leaders, and even civil servants swiftly switched allegiances to align with the new administration. Academic studies later documented these overnight shifts, which the press dubbed “political transhumance.” Djibo Ka embodied this phenomenon: after backing Diouf in the 2000 runoff, he returned to Wade’s government in 2004.
From Wade to Macky Sall: transhumance reaches new heights
Under Abdoulaye Wade, the practice became entrenched. Power was consolidated around the PDS and the Sopi Coalition, which gradually absorbed parties and personalities from diverse backgrounds. The logic evolved from ideological alignment to electoral strategy, territorial influence, institutional positioning, and even personal ambition. By 2004, Wade’s government was dominated by the PDS, though several figures from other political traditions were included; Djibo Ka, for instance, returned to a ministerial position that year.
Yet it was under Macky Sall that the phenomenon of transhumance took on a particularly dramatic political dimension. Following his 2012 victory, Sall’s administration relied on the Benno Bokk Yaakaar coalition, which united forces that had once been rivals. Over time, the APR sought to broaden its base and diminish the space available to its competitors. Sall’s oft-quoted remark—“reducing the opposition to its simplest form”—became a defining phrase in political discourse during this period.
Sall publicly defended a permissive view of political switching, rejecting the pejorative label of “transhumant.” He argued that individuals should be free to join any party. This stance sparked controversy even within his own ranks. The strategy of political massification further blurred the line between majority and opposition.
PASTEF: the reverse movement
The rise of PASTEF introduced a new dynamic. After 2019, the movement demonstrated that political repositioning was no longer a one-way street. Leaders and figures from various backgrounds began distancing themselves from Macky Sall’s administration to align with the movement led by Ousmane Sonko, and later Bassirou Diomaye Faye. Not all shifts toward PASTEF fit the traditional definition of transhumance—some were electoral support, circumstantial alliances, or genuine commitments. Yet the trend was real: the prospect of the 2024 alternation reshaped political lines. Bassirou Diomaye Faye’s first-round victory, backed by the PASTEF coalition, marked another major realignment in Senegal’s political landscape.
2026: KIIRAAY tests the limits of Senegalese politics
On July 25, 2026, Bassirou Diomaye Faye took another step forward by officially launching KIIRAAY—Les Patriotes Républicains, born from the transformation of the “Diomaye Président” coalition. According to reports, 437 parties and movements merged to form this new entity. KIIRAAY presents itself as an “open house,” grounded in ethics, transparency, and the principle of “serving rather than ruling.”
A critical question now looms: how will KIIRAAY manage the influx of officials, elected representatives, activists, and figures from diverse political backgrounds?
Behind each new affiliation lie different motivations. For some, it reflects a sincere commitment to a new political vision and a desire to contribute to national transformation. For others, it may represent a fresh political opportunity. Some may see it as settling old scores, repositioning themselves, or safeguarding against potential challenges. Without concrete evidence, such interpretations remain speculative.
The key challenge for KIIRAAY is not the quantity of its recruits but the quality of their political integration. A party that absorbs figures rapidly from all horizons risks replicating the very mechanisms it claims to overcome. Conversely, a formation that welcomes new members without diluting its identity, integrates them without losing its core values, and transforms alliances into genuine programmatic commitments could herald a new political culture.
The decisive question is this: with what spirit, philosophy, rules, and strategy will KIIRAAY absorb this wave of new members without becoming just another vehicle for political massification? History shows that winning over supporters is easy; building a shared political culture is far harder.