Despite the immediate condemnation of the coup by various international bodies, including the African Union and the United States, there was a sense that Tandja got what he deserved. His machinations last year to ram through legislation that not only prolonged his presidency but also granted him unprecedented executive powers were greeted with near-universal criticism, and risked the substantial foreign assistance that the impoverished northwest African state depends on.

The transition from rule by the 71-year-old Tandja to the new military junta was relatively seamless. Tanks rolled into the presidential palace in the capital, Niamey, early in the morning on Feb. 18, beginning a gun battle that lasted for several hours. Unconfirmed media reports declared that between 10 and 30 soldiers, most of them members of the presidential guard, were killed. There were no civilian casualties.

By late afternoon, the newly installed junta, the Supreme Council for the Restoration of Democracy, had introduced itself in a short statement on national television. A day later, things were back to normal. One humanitarian worker told World Politics Review that except for the tanks stationed in strategic locations, the streets of the capital were calm, and that everyone was bent on returning to life as usual.

Thousands of Nigeriens joined weekend rallies in support of the new regime, and the country's beleaguered opposition parties welcomed the changing of the guard. International envoys have already been granted access to the new junta, with the outgoing chair of the Economic Community of West African States, Mohamed Ibn Chambas, reporting that the junta was "eager" to hand power back to civilians after elections -- which have yet to be scheduled.

The relative enthusiasm that greeted the ouster of Tandja must, however, be tempered by some measure of reality. To begin with, no one is quite sure where Tandja has gone -- or whether he has the popular support to perhaps come back. Some reports place him in custody in the capital. Others have him considering exile in Morocco.

Also, despite the prominent role played by the Nigerien military in daily life, and the amenability most citizens have to the army stepping in to resolve problems, there is a marked absence of familiar faces in the junta. In the top position is the commander of the small but powerful armored contingent, Maj. Salou Djibo, who led the assault on the presidential palace. To date, Djibo has had a distinguished but unremarkable military career that included two stints as a U.N. peacekeeper, in Côte d'Ivoire and in Democratic Republic of Congo. Others in the new leadership participated in the 1999 coup that eventually led to Tandja's taking office, evoking some concerns that the junta is not nearly as interested in handing over power as it professes to be. 

Most recognizable to the country is the junta's spokesman, Col. Djibril Hamidou, popularly known as "Pele" for his role as the president of the soccer federation. In contrast to Djibo, who has been seen only rarely since the takeover, Hamidou has been in front of the cameras, on the radio and in the public eye, assuring a veneer of stability and familiarity for the population.

Finally, there is the ever-present risk that the junta will find the trappings of power -- and its attendant wealth in a resource-rich country such as Niger -- too irresistible to hand over when the time comes. For all the insistence by the junta that it will quickly cede responsibility to an elected civilian administration, it has as yet given no indication when elections are likely to be called.

Chambas, a veteran of a substantial number of these sorts of negotiations, was firm in his enthusiasm for the junta's intentions. "We were encouraged by the fact that the authorities themselves are mindful that this is not their normal function and they are eager to finish this task and go back to their normal military and security duties," he said in a Feb. 21 interview with a South African radio station, following his visit to Niamey.

Another point in the junta's favor is the reputation of the Nigerien military for professionalism and discipline -- a marked contrast to the chaos that followed the military takeover of power in Guinea after the death of longtime autocrat Lansana Conté in December 2008. The ramifications of that coup -- though initially bloodless -- are still being felt, as the International Criminal Court investigates whether charges should be filed against junta leaders for a massacre of opposition supporters in September 2009.

The situation in Niger is a sobering reminder of the precarious state of democracy and good governance in a region all-too-familiar with the replacement of an ostensibly elected president by a military regime. Next month brings with it the one-year anniversary of the assassinations of the president and the head of the army in Guinea-Bissau, which has deteriorated into the world's first genuine narco-state. Guinea is only barely back on track towards civilian leadership with a transitional government comprised of both political and military figures, while Mauritania has struggled to regain its legitimacy after two coups in three years executed by the same military officers.

Add the ongoing leadership crisis in powerhouse Nigeria, the rising tensions in Ivory Coast ahead of elections now five-times postponed, and the slow and unsteady progress towards post-conflict reconciliation in Sierra Leone and Liberia, and there is no mistaking the fact that good governance and strong civilian institutions are needed more acutely than ever in West Africa.

**Lauren Gelfand is a freelance journalist and analyst now based in Nairobi, Kenya, with an interest in security and defense issues. After beginning her career as a wire service correspondent, working on three continents for Agence France-Presse, she currently serves as Middle East and Africa editor for Jane's Defence Weekly magazine. She writes in French and in English for a variety of publications