They are not a good partner, but they have kept the regime in power
In the ancient crossroads of the Sahel, Mali's military rulers find themselves encircled — not only by a rebel coalition of Islamist fighters and Tuareg separatists, but by the weight of their own fragile legitimacy. The fall of Kidal in late April, the assassination of the defense minister, and a fuel blockade strangling the capital Bamako reveal a junta that seized power through force but cannot hold territory through it. Russian mercenaries, once presented as a guarantor of stability, now consolidate around the capital rather than reclaim the countryside, a retreat that speaks to the limits of imported military power in the face of a people's long and unresolved grievances.
- A rebel coalition of al-Qaeda-linked JNIM fighters and Tuareg separatists launched a devastating coordinated offensive in late April, killing Mali's defense minister and seizing the symbolically vital northern town of Kidal.
- Russian mercenaries — between 2,000 and 2,500 strong — have failed to retake lost ground, and are now pulling back from outlying posts to form a defensive ring around the capital, exposing the hollowness of the junta's military posture.
- JNIM's fuel blockade is throttling Bamako, a tactic that nearly toppled the regime last year, while the junta responds with curfews and mass arrests as government airstrikes on Kidal destroy little more than a single house.
- Hundreds of civilians have died in recent weeks, mass displacement is accelerating across the Sahel, and the UN warns of a deepening humanitarian catastrophe as food insecurity spreads and violence against civilians escalates.
- Analysts see no imminent coup or mutiny within the junta, but the territory it controls is shrinking and the rebels are attempting to govern captured populations under a coalition agreement that includes a moderated form of Islamic law.
- The crisis now hinges on three unresolved questions: whether the blockade breaks the junta's will, whether the rebels can convert battlefield gains into political order, and whether international actors will be compelled to intervene.
Mali's military rulers are fighting to hold power as the ground beneath them gives way. Government warplanes struck the northern town of Kidal this week in an attempt to dislodge rebels who seized it in late April — but the airstrikes destroyed little more than a single house and left a crater in a courtyard. It was a telling image of a regime struggling to project force despite the presence of thousands of Russian mercenaries deployed by the Kremlin in 2021 to prop up a government that came to power through two coups.
The rebel coalition behind the April offensive is an unlikely but formidable alliance: JNIM, an al-Qaeda-linked Islamist group, has joined with the Azawad Liberation Front, a Tuareg separatist movement. Together they struck dozens of military posts, ambushed convoys, deployed drones and car bombs, and killed hundreds of soldiers. Mali's defense minister, Sadio Camara, was assassinated when an explosives-laden vehicle was driven into his residence just nine miles from the capital. The head of military intelligence was also killed. Rebels attacked the international airport and targeted the home of junta leader Assimi Goïta, who survived.
The loss of Kidal carried particular symbolic weight. Three years ago, the junta had celebrated taking the town from separatist forces as a defining victory. Now it was abandoned — soldiers fled, and Russian mercenaries surrendered without a sustained fight. The reversal exposed the limits of Moscow's support. Russian-piloted helicopters have continued ferrying supplies and protecting convoys, but these efforts have not translated into recaptured territory.
The rebels have since tightened their grip around Bamako itself. JNIM's fuel blockade on the capital — a tactic that nearly brought the junta down last year — is once again throttling the city. The government has responded with curfews and waves of arrests, while the army commander publicly claimed that major routes remained open and that hundreds of fighters had been neutralized. The claims rang hollow against the visible reality of a capital under siege.
Analysts note that the junta has shown resilience — there has been no mutiny, no counter-coup — but the Russian Africa Corps is now consolidating around Bamako rather than pushing outward. Their mission, it seems, has narrowed to keeping the regime alive in the capital. The space they control is shrinking.
The humanitarian toll has been severe. Hundreds of civilians have died in recent weeks, many in attacks on villages in the Mopti region. The broader Sahel context is grim: last year, nearly 70 percent of all global terrorism deaths occurred in just five countries, three of them in this region. The UN secretary general has warned of a humanitarian catastrophe marked by mass displacement and growing food insecurity, and called for dialogue — though dialogue seems distant when the junta is hunkered in Bamako and the rebels control much of the countryside.
What comes next depends on whether the blockade breaks the junta's will to fight, whether the rebels can translate military success into political legitimacy, and whether the deepening crisis forces the hand of the international community.
Mali's military rulers are fighting to keep their grip on power, but the ground beneath them is shifting. This week, government warplanes struck the northern town of Kidal, trying to dislodge a rebel force that seized it in late April during a coordinated offensive that caught the junta off guard. The airstrikes were largely ineffective—witnesses reported that bombs destroyed only a single house near an old market and left a crater in the governor's compound courtyard. It was a telling image of a regime struggling to project force despite the presence of between 2,000 and 2,500 Russian mercenaries, deployed to Mali by the Kremlin in 2021 to shore up the military government that took power through coups in 2020 and 2021.
The rebel coalition that launched the April offensive is an unusual alliance: Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin, an al-Qaeda-linked Islamist group known as JNIM, has joined forces with the Azawad Liberation Front, a Tuareg separatist movement. Together, they have proven far more effective militarily than the junta and its Russian backers. The rebels struck dozens of military posts across central and northern Mali, ambushed convoys, deployed drones and car bombs, and killed hundreds of government soldiers. Among the dead was Mali's defence minister, Sadio Camara, who was assassinated when a vehicle laden with explosives was driven into his residence in the garrison town of Kati, just nine miles northwest of the capital, Bamako. The head of military intelligence was also killed. Rebels attacked the international airport and targeted the home of Assimi Goïta, the junta leader himself, though he survived.
The loss of Kidal was particularly symbolic. Three years earlier, the junta had claimed a major victory by taking the town from separatist forces. Now it was gone, abandoned when soldiers fled and Russian mercenaries surrendered without a sustained fight. The reversal exposed the limits of Moscow's military support and raised uncomfortable questions about the junta's actual capacity to govern. Russian-piloted helicopters have been ferrying supplies to remote outposts and protecting convoys, but these efforts have not translated into territorial gains. The government has failed to retake significant territory lost in the April attacks.
The rebels have tightened the noose around Bamako itself. JNIM has imposed a fuel blockade on the capital, a tactic that nearly brought the junta to collapse last year and is now, in the words of analysts, "throttling" the city. The government has responded with a strict curfew and waves of arrests. During a press conference, the Malian army commander, Djibrilla Maiga, claimed that two major routes out of the capital remained open and that government forces had neutralized several hundred "terrorists" since April. The claims rang hollow against the visible reality of a capital under siege.
Nina Wilén, the Africa director at the Egmont Institute in Brussels, offered a measured assessment: the junta has shown resilience in the face of the onslaught. There has been no mutiny, no counter-coup. The regime is still fighting. But she also noted that the Russian mercenaries, known as the Africa Corps, are withdrawing from outlying posts to concentrate on defending Bamako itself. Their primary mission, she said, is to protect the regime, and on that narrow measure they have succeeded—Goïta remains in power, and the junta still rules the capital. But the cost is mounting, and the space they control is shrinking.
The humanitarian toll has been severe. Hundreds of civilians have died in recent weeks, many in attacks on villages in the central Mopti region claimed by JNIM. The group has targeted settlements where residents broke agreements to support JNIM and cooperate with government authorities. Wilén acknowledged that JNIM, despite efforts to improve its image, remains a violent extremist organization. But she also noted a distinction: unlike Islamic State affiliates in the Sahel, JNIM does not amputate limbs as punishment for theft. The group is attempting to govern populations and win support, and under the coalition agreement with the Tuareg separatists, it has committed to implementing a moderate version of Islamic law.
The Tuaregs themselves have a long history of armed struggle. A historically nomadic people spread across Mali, Niger, Algeria, Libya, and Burkina Faso, they have fought for decades against marginalization by central governments. Islamic militancy has surged across the entire Sahel region over the past two decades, fueled by competition over scarce resources, sectarian tensions, the proliferation of weapons left over from decades of conflict, and the failure of governments to provide basic services or security. Last year, nearly 70 percent of all deaths from terrorism globally occurred in just five countries, three of them in the Sahel. The violence has been further accelerated by brutal counterinsurgency tactics employed by armed forces and Russian mercenaries across the region.
The United Nations secretary general, António Guterres, warned last week that the deteriorating security situation in Mali and across the Sahel was driving a humanitarian catastrophe marked by escalating violence against civilians, mass displacement, and growing food insecurity. He called for dialogue and regional cooperation to address the crisis. But dialogue seems distant. The junta is hunkered down in Bamako, the rebels control much of the countryside, and the Russian mercenaries are consolidating around the capital rather than expanding their reach. What happens next depends on whether the blockade breaks the junta's will to fight, whether the rebels can translate military success into political control, and whether the humanitarian crisis deepens enough to force international intervention.
Citas Notables
They are fighting back. There has not been a mutiny or counter-coup. That doesn't mean it won't happen but they are still fighting and that is something to note.— Nina Wilén, Africa director at the Egmont Institute
The worsening security situation in Mali and across the whole of Africa's Sahel region was driving a humanitarian emergency marked by growing violence against civilians, widespread displacement and growing food insecurity.— UN Secretary General António Guterres
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did the junta bring in Russian mercenaries in the first place? What was the original calculation?
The junta took power through military coups in 2020 and 2021. They needed to consolidate control and project force, especially in the north where separatist and Islamist groups had been active for years. Russia offered a relatively quick military solution—trained fighters, air support, helicopters. It looked like a way to stabilize the country without the political complications of working with France, the former colonial power.
And it worked, at least initially?
For a time, yes. They took back Kidal three years ago, which was a symbolic victory. But the rebels learned. They studied how the junta and the Russians operated, and when they struck in April, they coordinated across multiple fronts simultaneously. The Russians couldn't be everywhere at once.
The fuel blockade seems like the real weapon here. Why is that more effective than military force?
Because you can't shoot a blockade. The rebels don't need to hold territory everywhere—they just need to strangle the capital's supply lines. Last year it nearly collapsed the junta. Now they're doing it again. A city under siege, rationing fuel, curfews, arrests. The population gets desperate. The junta's authority erodes from within.
What's the relationship between JNIM and the Tuareg separatists? That seems like an odd alliance.
It is, but it's pragmatic. JNIM wants to establish an Islamic state. The Tuaregs want autonomy and an end to marginalization. They don't necessarily share the same vision of what comes next, but right now they share a common enemy—the junta. The coalition agreement includes a commitment to moderate Islamic law, which suggests they've negotiated some kind of power-sharing arrangement.
And the Russians—are they actually leaving, or is that just repositioning?
They're consolidating around Bamako. Pulling back from the outlying posts, concentrating forces to defend the capital and the regime. It's a defensive posture, not an offensive one. That tells you something about their assessment of the situation.
What does collapse look like from here?
Either the blockade breaks the junta's will and they negotiate, or the rebels breach Bamako's defenses. Or a mutiny happens inside the military itself—soldiers tired of losing, officers questioning whether the Russians can actually protect them. Right now none of those things have happened. But the space for the junta to maneuver is getting smaller every week.