The perils of a jihadist state in Africa

  • Themes: Africa, Geopolitics, History

The militants on the brink of toppling Mali's junta are affiliated with Al Qaeda. But their original grievances have distinct geographic and cultural elements rooted in a deeper past.

View of the Martyrs Bridge and Niger River in Bamako, Mali. Credit: Thomas Cockrem
View of the Martyrs Bridge and Niger River in Bamako, Mali. Credit: Thomas Cockrem

The shoreline is burning, and the flames are spreading. The shoreline is the Sahel, a word derived from the Arabic word for coast, or shore, which is how early Islamic travellers thought of the region after crossing the sea of sand that is the Sahara. Insurgencies rage across the region but are hottest in Mali. It could fall to an Al Qaeda affiliate and become a jihadist-led state on Europe’s doorstep.

The jihadist group Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam al-Muslimin (JNIM) controls large parts of the country and, along with the smaller Macina Liberation Front, is now blockading the capital, Bamako (population three million). They are using classic insurgent tactics to undermine confidence in the junta which seized power in Mali in 2020. Convoys of tankers ferrying petrol to Bamako from West African coastal states are attacked by the jihadists and life has become a daily struggle. There are long queues at petrol stations, schools are shut, and businesses closed. Military units sent to open roads into the city are attacked, eroding public confidence that the junta can survive. Numerous foreign governments have warned their citizens to leave the country immediately, but at time of writing the military is hanging on and looking for ways to turn the situation around.

Three years ago, the junta’s leader General Assimi Goïta made a series of poor choices. He expelled French-led peace-keeping forces, and the UN peace-keeping mission, then pulled out of the G5 Sahel group’s counter terrorism pact. To replace the 15,000 or so troops, he brought in 1,500 Russian mercenaries from the Wagner Group. How they were supposed to keep peace in a country twice the size of France, with seven borders, was unclear. They lost dozens of fighters, 84 in just one incident near the Algerian border last year.

JNIM could hardly believe its luck. It was created in 2017 when various Islamist factions merged and declared allegiance to Al Qaeda. Some had been fighting the state since independence from France in 1960 and, although JNIM now recruits fighters from across the country, its original grievances have distinct geographic and cultural elements that long predate the 20th century.

North and south Mali are, roughly speaking, separated by the Niger River. The north is drier and dominated by the Tuareg, a subdivision of the Berbers of North Africa. The south has more rain, agriculture, wealth, and people have darker skins. The two regions never considered themselves tied to each other, even after the rise of Islamic and Sahelian empires created trade routes linking them. The Arabs brought down goods such as salt (a rarity in the Sahel) and took back gold, ivory, and more than 10 million African slaves, often via the ‘port’ of Timbuktu situated just north of the Niger. In the 1400s, Europeans began sailing down the Atlantic coast. The African slave traders now had an alternative trade route, undermining the landlocked areas to the east. Later, the colonial powers built rail tracks further eroding former trade centres. Independence left the Tuareg a minority, trapped inside a state whose borders only made sense in the minds of imperial powers scrambling to draw lines on maps designed to block rivals. The first of several Tuareg rebellions broke out in 1960 and grew into a movement calling for the creation of an independent state called Azawad.

In 2012, Al Qaeda’s leaders, always on the lookout for trouble they can make worse, spotted an opportunity. Another rebellion had broken out, this time supported by Islamist groups. The previous year, Libya’s Colonel Gaddafi had been overthrown. This meant thousands of Malian Tuareg mercenaries, who had volunteered for his ‘Islamic Legion’, were heading home, taking with them heavy weapons looted from the Legion’s bases. Al Qaeda moved in to help groups that later merged into JNIM. In less than a year, Mali was in turmoil; within two, so was the Sahel as violence exploded across borders.

The Sahel, which stretches from the Red Sea to the Atlantic, is sometimes referred to as ‘the coup belt’. Coup d’états have overthrown governments in Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Sudan, and Chad. Al Qaeda and ISIS-affiliated groups operate in all of them. According to the Global Terrorism Index, 51 per cent of deaths related to global terrorism last year occurred in the Sahel. The conflicts have resulted in almost five million people becoming refugees or Internally Displaced Persons. Mali alone has seen 300,000 people flee to neighbouring countries. If the country does collapse, that number will surge and destabilise surrounding states. The Sahel is one of the major migration routes towards African coastlines that end in Europe.

The JNIM’s emir is Iyad Ag Ghali, a veteran Tuareg figure. He may not attempt an assault on Bamako. His group has several thousand fighters, but if the junta made a fight of it, the organisation could suffer heavy losses, and it needs manpower to maintain its status as the most powerful jihadist group. It occasionally clashes with ISIS affiliates as they compete for recruits and ‘taxation’ territory, including gold mines. It also is stretched thin. It has cells in Burkina Faso and Niger, and has operated in Togo, Benin and Côte d’Ivoire. Late last month, it claimed the killing of a Nigerian solider in northern Nigeria. So, the JNIM is busy. An assault on the capital cannot be ruled out, but over the years the group has shown a willingness to negotiate. It has signed agreements with local leaders, even if some village chiefs signed only to survive or to prevent houses from being looted. Nevertheless, it does suggest the possibility of dialogue between JNIM and the junta.

General Goïta is running out of options. The Russians are still in town, although how many of them is unclear. The Wagner Group left in June claiming ‘Mission Accomplished’ – a statement up there with Comical Ali declaring there were no American tanks in Baghdad in 2003. However, Wagner is now called the ‘Africa Corps’ and many of the mercenaries just stayed on. The poor performance of the Corps is a blow to Moscow. On occasions, it used the Wagner Group to further the Kremlin’s aims but with ‘plausible deniability’. However, after its leader Yevgeny Prigozhin made an aborted march on Moscow in 2023, and subsequently died in a plane crash, the Russian government took it over and renamed it. Other countries where the Africa Corps operates, such as Sudan, Libya, Central African Republic, and especially Burkina Faso, are closely watching what happens in Mali. If it falls to the jihadists, then neighbouring Burkina Faso would be next in their sights. That in turn would ratchet up the danger to the countries just below it – Benin, Togo, Ghana, and Cote d’Ivoire.

General Goïta met President Putin in Moscow in June and it’s possible he will ask him to intervene, either with more mercenaries or by sending fuel. The latter would require airlifting supplies, which, given Russia’s current agenda, seems unlikely. American help is possible. Two months ago, the Trump administration resumed limited intelligence-sharing with Mali. This was considered a pragmatic move because last year the US was told to close a drone base in Niger that it used for Sahelian surveillance. However, that is a fledgling and evolving relationship. The French? Unlikely. Goïta stoked anti-French sentiment when he seized power and kicked them out.

All of which leaves negotiation and, even with it, continued conflict in one of the most troubled, poor and environmentally damaged places on the planet. And what happens in the Sahel doesn’t stay in the Sahel.

Author

Tim Marshall