Coups in the Age of Drones: The New Digital Battlefield That Crushed the Benin Plot
The sun was barely up over Cotonou on Sunday, December 7, 2025, when the first crackle of gunfire broke the relative calm. For a few terrifying hours, the citizens of Benin, a nation once hailed as a beacon of democracy in West Africa, watched as a familiar, dreadful script unfolded: soldiers, eight in all, appearing on state television to declare President Patrice Talon removed and all state institutions dissolved. The group, calling itself the “Military Committee for Refoundation” (CMR) and led by Lieutenant Colonel Pascal Tigri, announced its takeover, citing reasons ranging from the deteriorating security situation in the north to the “disregard and neglect of our fallen brothers-in-arms.”
It was a grim start to the day, echoing the wave of military takeovers that have swept through the Sahel, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, and Guinea. Observers braced for another protracted political crisis, one that would likely end with a forced resignation and routine condemnation from regional bodies.
By midday, the expectations were shattered. Within hours of the broadcast, loyalist forces had retaken the national broadcaster, ORTB, and the presidential palace. At exactly 11:09 a.m, Interior Minister Alassane Seidou appeared to declare the coup “completely defeated.” The speed of the collapse was unprecedented. This was not a power struggle that lasted days or weeks; it was a mutiny crushed in the span of a morning, a failed putsch that seemed to meet its end not just with boots on the ground, but with an invisible, digitally-enabled counter-strategy. The question that immediately arose was: How did the Beninese state know, and act, so fast?
The official narrative credits the swift and unwavering loyalty of the Beninese Armed Forces. President Patrice Talon, in his televised address later that Sunday, expressed his gratitude to the troops, stating, “This commitment and mobilization enabled us to defeat these adventurers and to prevent the worst for our country. This treachery will not go unpunished.”
While the government was quick to credit human loyalty, military analysts and security experts believe the reality points to a far more sophisticated, modern intervention: the successful deployment of digital espionage and advanced surveillance technology. In a region where coup plots are often hatched in closed-door meetings and communicated via burner phones, the Beninese counter-coup suggests that the plotters’ digital communications, perhaps on encrypted apps or simple mobile networks, were being actively monitored.
The mention of “drones” in high-tech security circles is no longer about bulky reconnaissance aircraft; it encompasses high-altitude surveillance, signal interception, and rapid deployment of reconnaissance capabilities. While no official admitted to using drone technology for intelligence gathering in this specific instance, the logistical coordination required to suppress pockets of resistance and apprehend at least 14 plotters, including 12 active soldiers, within hours hints at real-time command and control enabled by digital assets and aerial monitoring.
Moreover, the failed coup attempt was immediately preceded by a burst of coordinated, pro-military disinformation from accounts linked to external actors, including the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), which swiftly hailed the attack as a “day of liberation.” This digital amplification suggests the plotters were counting on social media to sow confusion and rally support, a strategy that was neutralised almost instantly by the physical failure of the coup.
The use of digital surveillance to thwart a violent seizure of power opens a complex legal and ethical Pandora’s Box, one that is becoming increasingly common across the continent. From a legal perspective, the state’s primary duty is to protect its constitutional order and the lives of its citizens. “Preventing a coup, which involves the use of deadly force and the overthrow of government, would generally be seen as a legitimate, existential use of state power under any national security law,” explains Barrister Ngozi Okafor, an international law expert based in Abuja. “The challenge, however, is the source of the intelligence. If the state used general mass surveillance or illegal hacking (Pegasus-style spyware) to intercept the private communications of citizens, even soldiers, that act itself is a violation of fundamental rights, particularly the right to privacy and communication, which are protected under Benin’s Constitution and regional charters like the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights.”
Now the question is: Does the end (saving democracy) justify the means (illegal surveillance)?
In this instance, the potential legal battles will likely hinge on whether the security agencies had judicial authorisation for specific intercepts or if they were operating under broad national security exceptions. For the average Beninese citizen, the reaction is mixed. While there is a palpable relief that their country avoided the chaos seen in neighbouring nations, there is a growing unease about the government’s perceived authoritarian drift and the power it has accumulated.
“I am happy we did not become the next Niger,” said Marie-Claire, a market trader in Cotonou. “But if the government can hear what soldiers are planning, can they also hear what I am saying about the price of beans? This is the new fear.” This human element of fear underscores the profound trade-off between absolute state security and individual liberty in a digitising Africa.
The Benin coup failure was not just an internal success; it was a victory for the region, largely due to the rapid, coordinated military intervention of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS).
The swift response from Nigeria, Benin’s powerful neighbour, was particularly telling. President Bola Tinubu, whose office confirmed that Nigerian Air Force fighter jets were deployed to take the Cotonou airspace and dislodge the mutineers, demonstrated a new, proactive doctrine. This was not a routine condemnation; it was a rapid, physical show of force. As the Nigerian President’s office stated, this was an attempt to “defend the constitutional order and guarantee the safety of the president.”
The speed of this foil signals a terrifying but necessary evolution in the battle for democracy in West Africa. The days of coups being a slow-burn process, where regional leaders wait days to formulate a response, are over. The coup plotters, who cited genuine grievances such as the security situation and the exclusion of political opponents (grievances that berate the decay of Benin’s democracy under Talon), were outmanoeuvred by a faster, better-informed security apparatus.
The successful quashing of the Benin plot is a stark warning: the next military plot will not only have to outrun the loyalty of the army but must also bypass a sophisticated digital perimeter, a regional security net that is learning from past failures and is now willing to intervene not just with diplomacy, but with immediate military force and advanced intelligence. The era of the easily successful coup in West Africa is rapidly coming to an end, replaced by a high-stakes digital chess game where a single intercepted communication can mean the difference between televised victory and immediate arrest.