The War in the Sahel at Europe’s Gates
Terrorism, human trafficking, migration, propaganda: the effects of the Sahel crisis extend far beyond Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso. Europe can no longer treat this region as an external arena. Bamako, the capital of Mali, is not the only target of the most recent onslaught by JNIM and FLA fighters.
The attack that began on April 25, 2026, attributed to an operational convergence between JNIM, the jihadist group linked to Al-Qaeda, and the FLA organization, which represents the demands of Azawad separatism, marks a new turning point: it is no longer just a question of peripheral attacks in the northern desert, but of increasing pressure on urban centers, military bases, logistical corridors and nerve centers of the force. The emerging picture depicts a nation reduced to a network of fortified enclaves, increasingly dependent on immediate protection of the centers remaining under its control and increasingly unable to communicate with one another. The combined offensive heralds a hybrid Sahelian order: jihadist, autonomous, religious and geopolitical.[1] Due to diasporas, narratives, human trafficking, migration, and influence operations, the Sahel is no longer an exterior region for European nations. Mali has not yet collapsed. However, something in it has shattered. The coordinated attack by the ‘Support Group for Islam and Muslims’ (JNIM) and the ‘Front for the Liberation of Azawad’ (FLA) marks a turning point: Kidal, a symbolic city in the north, has once again slipped from the central government’s hands and fallen into the hands of the rebels. Defense Minister Sadio Camara, a key figure in the rapprochement with Russia, has been killed. In Mako, the city is under siege from fuel and other essential supplies. The junta of Assimi Goïta, which promised to restore national sovereignty after the expulsion of France and the rapprochement with Russia and the reliance on the power of the Africa Corps, is seeing its narrative crumble. [2]
At this point, the JNIM probably does not seek to control Bamako alone as a conventional state. Its project is more subtle and dangerous: to make the central power irrelevant, to control the roads, to tax traffic, to impose Islamic justice in the form of Sharia law, to influence mining operations for rare and other minerals, and to present itself as the arbiter of a new order. The refusal to seize the central power, i.e., to occupy the capital, may be a tactic, but not a lasting doctrine.
The influence of the JNIM extends beyond the borders of Mali. Its central territory is the ‘Sahel Alliance’: Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger (Sahel Alliance – AES).[3] In these allied countries, the JNIM has a profound impact on the rural space, by building an armed infrastructure of residents alienated from the central government, building economic channels and a powerful narrative as an alternative to failed states lacking accountability, countries where elite corruption must be rooted out, foreign influence ended and Islamic order and justice promised. [4]
The Gulf of Guinea countries – Benin, Togo, Ghana and Ivory Coast – are already affected: their porous northern borders are becoming hiding and transit areas. Northern Mali adds another layer of complexity. The FLA cannot be reduced to a mere ‘alliance of the jihadists. The Tuareg separatist organization’s demand for autonomy is rooted in a long history and stems from ongoing marginalization, the weakness of the central government, cycles of fighting, military violence, and unimplemented peace/reconciliation agreements. The 2015 Algiers Accords, which was annulled by Malian rulers in 2024, specifically attempted to address this gap. [5] As noted, the Malian government announced its withdrawal from the agreement on January 25, 2024, the junta citing the failure of other parties, including Algeria, to comply with the terms of the agreement. Mali’s transitional government also accused Algeria of “unfriendly acts” and of exploiting the agreement for its own interests. Malian authorities have also claimed that certain groups, previously involved in the peace process, have become “terrorist actors” with ties to Algeria. [6]
In fact, when the junta declared them obsolete and invalid in January 2024, it chose a clear path – to replace mediation by force, and the political management of pluralism in Mali with a military re-occupation. The problem is that such an occupation requires a disciplined army, intelligence, air power, logistics, a sustained presence, local consent, and administrative continuity. Bamako lacks sufficient quantities of all of these. The central government, on the other hand, has a military regime, a very strong sovereign rhetoric, an internal repression apparatus, and a Russian ally who is useful for defending the regime, but not necessarily capable of stabilizing a vast and fragmented state, saturated with human trafficking, rebellions, and historical grudges.
Herein lies the fundamental misunderstanding. Sovereignty is not about declaring that no one from outside should command. It consists of the concrete ability to control territory, population, borders, economy, and security. A state’s claim to sovereignty is useless if it does not control its roads, schools, commerce, mines, customs, and barracks. Therefore, any viable solution will have to reopen the Azawad question. Ignoring it in the name of national unity would be a repetition of past mistakes. But the tactical alliance between the FLA and the JNIM makes this demand a dilemma.[7] The FLA may serve as a political front against the authority structures established by al-Qaeda and aid in the separation of northern nationalists from jihadists. For the Western powers, dialogue with the FLA is not scandalous in itself and is possible without demanding its strategic separation from the JNIM.
Within the framework of the possible solution, Mahmoud Dicko, the Malian imam, now living in Algeria, could be an alternative embodying a possible third way: Islamic, conservative, popular, anti-junta, but not jihadist. For Algeria, which does not want a caliphate on its southern border nor an independent Tuareg state, he could represent a significant political asset. But the ambiguity is significant. He could be a bulwark against JNIM. He could also become the respected interface of a transition forced under jihadist pressure. [8]
This is the heart of the current complexity in the Sahel: there are no more easy solutions. Russia sought to replace France, but its limitations are becoming clear. Algeria wants to resume its role as a mediator, Morocco is advancing through economic corridors, Turkey is providing drones and training, and the United Arab Emirates could offer funding. Western powers maintain intelligence and training capabilities, but their apparent return to Mali would be politically explosive.
No single actor can stop JNIM. The only credible response would be imperfect coordination: Algeria in the north, Gulf of Guinea states in the south, European and American intelligence support, Turkish technical assistance, Gulf funding, and African or international political cover. But such architecture would be slow, distrustful, and fragmented.
JNIM exploits precisely these gaps to its advantage: between Bamako and Algiers, between France and the juntas, between the Tuareg and the central government, between the coastal states and the landlocked Sahel, and between Russia and the West.
For Europe, the stakes are high. A radical Islamic jihadist or pre-jihadist Tuareg takeover of the central Sahel would have direct consequences: terrorism, property trafficking, migration flows, illegal gold, drugs, weapons, networks of influence and intercommunal tensions. The Sahel is no longer limited to the Sahel. It is also present in Paris, Brussels, Monterrey, Liège, Antwerp and Marseille, through families, diasporas, remittances and social networks.
This reality requires double awareness. It would be unfair and dangerous to collectively suspect the Sahelian diasporas. First and foremost, these are families, residents, employees, business owners, students, and associations. But it would be equally naive to deny that these regions are permeated with acts of influence. Anti-French and anti-Western resentment exist among some Sahelian and diaspora opinion. It is rooted in colonial history, military failures and French ambiguity. But it is also amplified by pro-Russian networks, by the propaganda of the military juntas and by certain European influences, where condemnation of the West sometimes serves other agendas.
Therefore, France and Europe must consider, together, external security and internal cohesion. Fighting the JNIM does not require support for the juntas. Criticism of the juntas should not lead to ignoring the jihadist threat. It may be necessary to talk to the FLA, but only if the autonomy of the north is separate from the al-Qaeda agenda. Dialogue with diasporas is essential, without being blind to the narratives that penetrate them.
The Sahel has become a European internal space. Not because diasporas are suspicious, but because crises in the Sahel are already circulating in Europe through families, screens, financial flows, fears and foreign influences. We must not collectively suspect the diasporas.
Europe is paying the price for two mistakes: 1) having often seen the Sahel as an external security issue; 2) Europe has lost credibility without building a real political alternative. There is talk of terrorism, migration, military missions and training. Too little has been said about the state, justice, corruption, rural economy, communal conflicts, demography, water, education, employment and legitimacy.
[1] The Sahel has become a classic arena of hybrid warfare: military confrontations, diplomatic pressure, media campaigns, rivalries for influence. In this complex game, the US, France, Russia – but also other players – are advancing their weapons. And the AES (Alliance of the Sahel States) finds itself at the heart of this conflict. One great uncertainty remains: how far will this escalation go?
[2] From the outset, it was inconceivable that a handful of Russian mercenaries (Africa Corps) could replace the tens of thousands of UN peacekeepers and the 5,000 French soldiers deployed as part of Operation Barkhane (2014-2022). The Malian army, riddled with corruption and lack of discipline, has never been professional. Structurally, it has always been characterized by widespread impunity for coups, rebellions, embezzlement or massive human rights violations, which have exacerbated conflicts and pushed young people into the ranks of the rebels to escape arbitrary detention and extrajudicial killings.
Would the continuation of Operation Barkhane and international cooperation have been able to stop the jihadists’ advance towards Bamako? This is far from certain, given the enormous challenges facing the Malian state. Today, the failures of the Malian junta raise questions about a fundamental lack of attention in Operation Barkhane: the failure of French military cooperation with African armies, which are ultimately expected to assume sole responsibility for the defense of their countries.
The announcement in November 2022 of the end of Operation Barkhane in the Sahel was widely interpreted as the end of a strategic cycle that began in the early 2000s, characterized by the centrality of external counterterrorism, stabilization, and crisis management operations. Barkhane was the successor to Operation Serval with a broad regional deployment that included Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso, Chad, and Mauritania. Over the years, the Sahel has ceased to be just a counterterrorism arena, and has instead become an arena of power rivalries, in which Russia, Turkey, and the United Arab Emirates are particularly active. Information Warfare is commonly cited as the weak point of Operation Barkhane, during which France was exposed to negative narratives that portrayed it as an invasive and ineffective state, thus casting doubt on the legitimacy of its operation.
[3] In September 2023, the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) was established, initially designed as a mutual defense alliance against the growing threat of terrorism. This alliance quickly evolved into a confederation in July 2024, with a stated ambition to strengthen the sovereignty and strategic autonomy of its members.
[4] Accountability is the moral, legal and organizational obligation of an individual or organization to be fully accountable for their actions, decisions and outcomes to relevant parties. The term combines taking personal and professional responsibility with transparency and a willingness to bear the consequences (including sanctions or rewards).
[5] The Tuareg rebellion in the far north of Mali is a source of conflict with the government in the capital, Bamako, and has been going on for decades. Violence has also continued throughout the period when the parties sat for peace talks. The agreement recognized that the issue of Azawad is a political problem, for which a solution has not yet been found and that the agreement should be reviewed further during the transition period. The agreement is part of a reconciliation process in northern Mali, although it does not address the security issues that still destabilize the region. The agreement, which was brokered after months of negotiations under the auspices of Algeria, is intended to bring stability to the vast desert region of northern Mali, which has been the scene of a long series of Tuareg rebellions since the 1960s and has served as a haven for Muslim fighters belonging to al-Qaeda’s Maghreb branch.
[6] Mali ends peace deal with separatist groups
https://www.dw.com/en/mali-ends-peace-deal-with-separatist-groups/a-68088180
[7] The operational convergence between JNIM and FLA should not be confused with an ideological merger. The jihadists seek to impose an armed, transnational Islamist order based on the delegitimization of the nation-state. In contrast, the Tuareg separatists of Azawad pursue a territorial, identity-based and political agenda linked to the demand for autonomy or independence for the northern regions.
[8] Mahmoud Diko (born around 1954 in Timbuktu Province) is one of the most influential religious and political figures in Mali. A former Arabic teacher educated in Saudi Arabia; he operates as a conservative Sunni moral authority rather than a hard-liner fundamentalist authority. He has never run for office but wields enormous power over Malian politics.
Imam Mahmoud Diko has agreed to join the Coalition des forces CFR pour la République (Coalition of Forces for the Republic). The coalition, a movement of democratic resistance and national preservation, aims to end the massacre of civilians and soldiers by opening a national dialogue with armed groups in Mali, restoring fundamental freedoms.
L’imam Dicko rejoint la nouvelle coalition d’opposants en exile
